Bridges to the Heart
by InfinityStar
Summary: A critical injury brings Bobby back into contact with a woman he once let get away. This time his partner is determined not to let him blow a real chance to be happy. BA friendship.
1. The Shooting

Of all the questions he'd ever heard asked by any person over the age of ten, there was one that stuck out as being phenomenally more stupid than most others. "Does it hurt to get shot?"

It was difficult to simply say _yes_ without wanting to add additional comments. It did hurt to get shot...a helluva a lot. It was just over a week since he'd been transferred from intensive care and although he had recovered some strength, the pain had not seemed to lessen at all. He kept getting scolded for breathing too shallow and causing his oxygen levels to drop. But it hurt to breathe deeply, and he was getting tired of being told to stop being difficult. He wasn't intentionally being difficult at the moment. He was just trying to minimize his pain.

And then there was Eames...she loved to make him laugh. She always _said_ she was sorry, but she didn't mean it. Whoever said laughter was the best medicine had obviously never gotten shot in the chest. And Eames was good at making him laugh. Yeah, it hurt to get shot.

He still wasn't quite sure how it had happened, and no one was able to explain it to him, either. They got out of the SUV and Eames went after the gunman. She was closer and had already drawn. He put himself between the gunman and the target, a child of about six. They later learned it was his son, and this was his way of resolving a difficult custody dispute. That dispute was now over...permanently, thanks to the gunman's rage, frustration and poor judgment, and his partner's deadly aim. When dealing with a drawn gun and a threat to an innocent party, Eames took no chances. There was no way to go back and 'unshoot' a bullet from a little boy's body.

There were two major contributing factors that led to his getting shot. First, he placed himself between an unstable man brandishing a loaded weapon and the target of his rage. But that was an acceptable risk, that was his job. The other factor was nothing more than pure, stupid, bad luck. He'd tried to recreate the shooting in his mind, but he couldn't figure it out and he only gave himself a headache trying.

The suspect got off three shots in rapid succession before Eames was able to take him out. Two of those shots were aimed at his son, and Goren had taken both of them for the child. One hit his vest, leaving a nasty bruise and two fractured ribs below his left collarbone. The other bullet somehow got past the vest under his right arm, tore through his chest and hit the inside of the vest just to the right of his sternum between ribs three and four, missing his heart by centimeters. Had the bullet entered under his left arm and followed a similar path, it would have hit his heart and killed him. Deakins told him he'd never seen a vest stop a bullet from the inside. That had not made him feel any better.

The suspect's attention was drawn from the boy and his protector by Eames' shout and his third shot was aimed at her, but it went wide while her aim was true. By that time, though, Goren was on the ground, his side already saturated with blood. He remembered feeling the impact of both bullets, but he did not feel any pain. The entire experience was very surreal and unlike any other time he'd been shot. He fell toward the ground, but he didn't remember stopping when he hit it. He just remembered falling. Voices filled the air, but he didn't recognize any of them, except Eames'. She was yelling, "We have an officer down! Send a bus right away!"

Mingled with the voices, he heard the soft whimpering of the little boy near him. A thick fog had already enveloped his brain and he was having a hard time seeing anything more than shadows. He reached his hand toward the sound of the crying. Two small hands grasped his larger one and held tight as the child scrambled close to his body for comfort and protection. That he remembered, feeling the pressure of the frightened boy's little body against his and the small fingers pressed firmly into his hand. As darkness covered him like a blanket, he became aware of a voice telling him to hang on, and he remembered wondering what he was supposed to hang on to. But he knew the voice, and she sounded scared. He reached his free hand toward her, coming into contact with her leg and feeling comfort as she wrapped her hand around his. Her other hand felt cool on his face as she gently stroked his cheek and his forehead. She was talking softly to him, but the fog in his brain wouldn't allow it to translate her words. Still, he felt reassured by her presence, as he always did. He wanted to say something to her, but his voice wouldn't work. When he tried to clear his throat, he was surprised to taste blood. Feeling short of breath, he tried to draw in more air to fill his lungs, but he couldn't. In fact, breathing was becoming more and more of an effort that he was feeling less and less inclined to make. By the time the ambulance arrived, the velvet darkness around him was complete. He knew nothing more until he woke up in intensive care five days later. That was when the pain hit him, hard. And when it began to compromise his breathing, they'd knocked him back out with medication until he was strong enough to handle the pain and still be able to breathe.

When he woke again, he was still in intensive care, and Eames was there. His head felt foggy, but he was glad to see her, glad that she was all right. At that point, he didn't remember anything about the shooting except that there had been a shooting. The pain in his body told him he'd been shot, but he was confused about that. He knew he'd been vested, so how had that happened? It was a question that remained unanswered.


	2. Officer Down

She slowly straightened from her shooter's stance, keeping her eye on the suspect, who remained motionless. Gradually, the world came back into focus as her senses began working again. Three uniformed officers who had responded to the call ran to the suspect's body. A fourth gently took her gun from her. The smell of spent gunpowder filled her nostrils...a familiar odor, bringing back memories of the last trip to the range she and Bobby had taken. It had been a good day. The sound of whimpering reached her ears. Whimpering? The little boy...she turned toward him, and her heart stopped. _Bobby_...

She pulled out her phone, pounded in 911 and gave the dispatcher her name, badge number and location. "We have an officer down! Send a bus right away!"

She couldn't quite keep the panic from her voice. "Bobby..." By the time she dropped to her knees at his side, he'd drawn the little boy close to him. She touched the child's head lightly to reassure him, then began searching for the source of the blood that pooled beside her partner. She found it, a gunshot wound in his side, under his right arm where the vest coverage ended. "Hang on," she told him. "There's an ambulance coming."

His hand reached for her, coming to rest on her leg and she grasped it, as if by holding on tight, she would keep him there with her. She ran her other hand over his forehead and along the side of his face, softly muttering to him, helping him to focus on her. She looked at the wound in his side, which was still bleeding freely, and she pressed her hand over it to try to stem the flow. "Come on, Bobby. Hang in there. Stay with me."

He groaned softly, then coughed, and fresh blood gushed over her fingers. "Don't cough...don't try to talk...just...just breathe...Come on, Bobby, breathe, dammit..."

It felt like forever, but they told her it was less than five minutes before the ambulance was on-scene. They'd been in the area, fortunately, and responded immediately. It was too late for the suspect, and it was almost too late for her partner. While the paramedics worked frantically on him, she took the little boy away from him. On separating from Bobby, he began sobbing. She lifted him into her arms and he held on for dear life until his mother, in a panic, arrived and examined him from head to toe, sobbing with him. Eames turned them over to a uniformed officer and she jumped into the SUV for the short dash to St. Vincent's.

* * *

She always hated to see any emergency room a frenzy of activity, but knowing why this ER was made a lump the size of a Sherman tank form in the pit of her stomach. They let her right back into the emergency room proper, and she waited by the nurses' station, listening to the doctors and nurses as they worked on Bobby. It wasn't sounding good.

"Alex?"

She turned at the welcome sound of a familiar voice. "Barb? What are you doing here?"

The nurse motioned for Eames to follow her, and she led her into a small room behind the nurses' station. She waited for Eames to sit down, then she set a clipboard on the desk and sat beside her. "I happened to be here when they brought him in. What happened?"

Eames told her as much as she knew. "I didn't see him get hit, so I can't tell you anything about that. I just saw the entrance wound under his right arm. I put pressure on it to try to slow down the bleeding, but it didn't help."

"That was good thinking," Barb sighed softly.

But Eames knew Barb well enough to realize she did not want to talk to her about the blood on her hands. "There's a 'but' coming, isn't there?"

Barb had been Goren's primary nurse during several hospitalizations over the last four years, and Eames knew he had come to like her a great deal. He never talked about her, but she thought that maybe he'd asked her out at some point. He stubbornly refused to discuss his love life with her, so she really didn't know for sure. She'd found herself hoping that something would work for them, because she really liked Barb, too. She was good for him, and Eames had seen that from the very beginning.

Barb just shook her head, and Eames felt the bottom drop from her gut. "It's bad, Alex." She hesitated to compose herself and swallowed. "I know you have medical proxy for him, and we need you to sign some forms: consent for treatment, consent for transfusion...and I...I have to ask...have you ever discussed organ donation with him?"

Eames eyes filled with tears. "Barb..."

"We're not there yet. He's still has a chance...but...it's not much of a chance. There was a lot of damage...and we aren't sure if his heart was injured. When that bullet hit the inside of his vest, there was nowhere for the pressure to go but back into his body. It's going to be awhile before we know anything for sure. They put a chest tube in place and his left lung is working normally now. That's good. But they're having a hard time with the bleeding, and his heart seems to be struggling. He's still breathing on his own, though. If there is such a thing, the bullet's path was a good one. It missed his heart and the major veins and arteries in his chest. That, and the fact that they got him in here so fast, will be what saves his life. Someone said something about a little boy...?"

"He was the suspect's son, and his target. Bobby got between him and the boy, and that was how he got shot, protecting the little boy."

Barb nodded, picking up the clipboard and handing it to Eames. "You can wait before signing the top form. It's the consent for organ donation. Like I said, we're not there yet."

Eames stared at the form. Finally she signed it. "We have discussed it. He wants to donate, if it comes to that."

"Hopefully, it won't."

She had to hesitate, to clear her eyes, before signing the rest of the forms. The nurse got to her feet. Her voice was quiet as she said, "I'll keep you informed, Alex. You can stay in here. I'll have someone bring you coffee."

"Stay with him, Barb. I want someone he knows with him."

She nodded. "I will."

Eames had not missed the blood on Barb's scrubs, and she didn't have to ask. She watched the petite nurse leave the room, and she felt a little better for her being there.

* * *

It amazed her how slowly the time passed. Minutes seemed like hours and she began pacing the small room. She spun toward the door when it finally opened an eternity later. Barb looked exhausted. Eames swallowed hard but remained silent. Quietly, Barb said, "They're transferring him to intensive care. He's critical, but stable, and still breathing on his own. Come on. We're going to get you something to eat while they transfer him, then I'll take you to him."

"But..."

"No buts. Come on."

* * *

Eames idly stirred her soup and took a small bite of her roll. Across from her, Barb was having as much trouble with her meal, but they both tried to eat. After a prolonged silence, Barb finally asked her, "How has he been?"

"Good. Work's been busy, and that keeps him fairly happy. What about you?"

"I've been fine."

Eames was quiet again, and her thoughts turned back to his last hospitalization, eight months ago, when he'd needed an emergency appendectomy. A subsequent nasty infection had delayed his recovery, and his discharge, for two weeks. She had watched him change during that time. His restless anxiety quieted when Barb was around, and he was less agitated. There was something there, she realized, whether he wanted to discuss it or not. "Barb? What happened between you and Bobby? I thought that maybe he'd call you."

Barb looked into her soup. "He did call. More than once. But it just didn't work out for us."

"When was the last time you saw him?"

"About six months ago. We tried having dinner, but he got called away again."

"Again?"

Eames was struck by the sorrow on Barb's face as she asked, "He never told you?"

"There are some things Bobby will not discuss, even with me."

"We tried..." She hesitated. "It got to be too much for me, emotionally. Too much of a roller coaster. I always looked forward to seeing him, to being with him...but sometimes he'd never even make it to my house. Mostly, he got called to work, or something happened with his mother. He'd apologize profusely and promise to make it up to me, but the timing was always just...wrong. I finally told him that it wasn't going to work." She looked into her soup and stirred it. "That was one of the hardest things I've had to do. I didn't want to..." She sighed sadly. "But I couldn't keep...doing that. It wasn't his fault and I hope I made that clear to him. But you know...if he'd called me even after that...I would have said yes again."

_Six months ago... _Eames closed her eyes. Something had deeply troubled him back then, and she wasn't sure he'd really gotten over it. He wouldn't talk to her about it. She'd assumed that whatever had him troubled, it had involved his mother, something else he would never discuss with her. But now, to know that he had tried to start something with Barb, but his life had interfered... He had never said anything about Barb, so she had assumed he had not called her. "I never knew," Eames said softly. "I'm sorry."

Barb set down her spoon. "Are you done, Alex?"

She nodded. She couldn't eat, and obviously, neither could Barb. They got up from the table, dumped their trays and headed for intensive care.


	3. A Fighting Chance

Eames hated the restless anxiety that plagued her days as much as she hated the nightmares that haunted her sleep. Every time the phone rang, her heart would stop and she would hesitate before answering. Bobby wasn't doing well, and she expected each call to be the one to tell her he didn't make it this time. In the middle of the afternoon on the fifth day after the shooting, they called her.

* * *

Cold sweat rolled down her face and soaked her shirt as she hurried through the ICU doors. She wasn't sweating because she was hot; it was because she was scared. They'd called to tell her he was awake, but while she was on the phone with them, he took a turn for the worse. The unit secretary who'd called her told her she'd better get there right away. God, she hated this. 

She was intercepted by a nurse as she crossed the unit toward his room. "They're working on him. It'll be a few more minutes."

"What happened?"

"We aren't sure. He was awake, but then he began having trouble breathing. I don't know what's wrong. Someone should be with you shortly."

"Thanks."

She paced the hallway nervously as she waited for someone who knew what was happening to come out and talk to her. The more time that passed, the more frightened she became. Finally, someone she recognized came out of his room and approached her. Dr. Raymond Harper had been Bobby's primary doctor during several previous hospitalizations and he knew them both. He extended his hand toward her. "Hello, Alex."

She accepted his hand. "Hello, Dr. Harper. How is he?"

Harper sighed and ran a hand over his balding head. "He's really giving us a run for our money this time. He woke up just over two hours ago in a great deal of pain. Before we could even try to help him manage it, he started having trouble breathing. By the time we got him sedated, he was nearly in respiratory failure, but we have him stabilized now. I'll give him a couple more days under sedation, then try bringing him out of it again, but slowly."

"Do you have a better idea of whether he's going to be all right?"

"Not yet, dear. But he's fighting. I'm not giving up on him." He gently squeezed her shoulder. "Go in and see him. I'll be around for awhile if anything happens."

"Are you expecting something?"

"I don't know what to expect from him this time around."

She watched him walk toward the nurses' station before turning and heading into Goren's room. There was only one nurse left in the room, and she was adding medication to his IV bag. She smiled at Eames when she was done and left the room.

Eames stepped up to the bed and took his hand, studying his quiet face. She wished he would just open his eyes and be all right. "You're giving Dr. Harper more gray hair, do you know that? You'll be giving me some, too, if you don't cut it out."

She stayed through the afternoon, and he remained stable. Just as she was getting ready to leave, Barb arrived. "I heard there was some excitement this afternoon."

Eames nodded. "He just has to make sure they're on the ball. They called me to tell me he was awake, and he started having trouble while they had me on the phone, so they told me to get in here."

Barb nodded. "I got a call, too, but I couldn't get away. I just talked to Dr. Harper."

She knew why they called Barb, and it made her feel a great deal better to know that they did. Past experience had proven that if he was going to respond to anyone, it would be to her or to Barb. And Dr. Harper knew that Barb could handle Bobby. "What did he tell you?"

Barb didn't have the heart to lie to her, and she felt that Eames had a right to know what was going on. She didn't know what was wrong with Bobby's mother, except that she was not competent to make medical decisions for him. That made Alex the closest thing to family he had...in fact, the only family he had, from what she understood. "Honestly, he doesn't know what to think. The best thing he can say is that Bobby's a fighter and that gives him a better than average chance right now."

"Define 'better than average'."

"He's giving him about 65 per cent."

"You know him, Barb. What do you say?"

"I'd give him a little better, but not much. The most encouraging thing for me is that Dr. Harper is talking in the future tense. That tells me he believes Bobby _has_ a future. Ray Harper is not an optimist, Alex, and he hasn't referred to the future at all before this. It's encouraging."

Eames sighed softly. "Are you going to stay with him for awhile, Barb? My captain has called four times...I really need to get back to the squadroom before I can go home."

Barb nodded. "I can stay." She studied Goren's face. "He seems to be resting comfortably."

"They have him sedated."

"Yes, but his breathing is easy, and that's a good sign. They came very close to putting him on a respirator this afternoon. They'll let him rest for a few days and try again. We'll just have to wait and see. It's up to him now."

"Will you call me if there's any change?"

"Of course."

"Thank you, Barb."

"Try not to worry, Alex. I know his night nurse. She'll take good care of him."

"I'll trust you on that one. Good night, Barb."

Eames stopped in the doorway and turned to look back. She watched Barb slip her hand into his and gently stroke his hair. She smiled and took great comfort from her gestures of affection, and she didn't worry so much about leaving him for a change.

* * *

Three days later, she got a call from Barb. "Alex, are you available?" 

"Yes. Why?"

"I just got a call from the ICU. Dr. Harper is very pleased with the progress Bobby has made over the last few days. He just got back the latest set of x-rays, and they look good. He's going to let him wake up. I can't get down there, but I knew you would want to be there, if you could get away."

"Thank you, Barb. I'll leave now."

She let Deakins know she was needed at the hospital and left the squadroom.

* * *

He groaned softly as pain bit into his reality. But it wasn't as intense as it had been the last time. God, that had been bad. He also felt like his head was in a fog, and he hated that, but it told him why the pain was manageable. It was better than the pain, that was for certain. He slowly opened his eyes and looked around. His eyes came to rest on his partner and he tried to smile. "Eames," he said softly. 

"Hey, Bobby. How do you feel?"

"Not so good."

He was having difficulty recalling what had happened to land him in the hospital in so much pain. He let his eyes circle the room, seeing for the first time the three nurses who were standing by, and he frowned. Then Dr. Harper came through the door. "It's nice to see your eyes, Bobby."

"Dr. Harper," he muttered softly.

"How are you feeling?"

Goren shook his head. "Like I've been hit by a bus."

"Close. A thirty-eight caliber bullet can feel like a bus when it hits you in the chest at close range."

"I was vested," Goren protested.

"Yes, you were, and in this case that complicated your injury. Let me listen to your lungs."

He pulled out his stethoscope and lightly pressed it against his patient's chest, listening intently. "Deep breath." He heard nothing and raised his eyes to see a frown creasing Goren's face. "I need you to take a deep breath, Bobby."

Goren shook his head. It hurt enough taking shallow breaths. Harper lowered the stethoscope. "Bobby..."

Again he shook his head. "It hurts."

"I know, and that's not going to improve anytime soon. But you still need to cooperate."

"I can't take a deep breath."

"Just take in as much as you can." He leaned back over him and pressed the bell of the instrument against his chest again. "You know by now I'll never ask for more than your best. Come on."

He tried. He really did. As the air rushed into his injured lung, it triggered a cough reflex, and it was the cough that did him in. He groaned deeply and rolled onto his injured side, shutting his eyes against the blinding pain. He felt Eames grab his hand, but he couldn't acknowledge her. The white heat searing his chest began to fade and darkness took its place.

Harper looked at the monitor, then at Eames. "I did hear air movement in his injured lung, and that's good. But something tells me he's not going to cooperate with us this time around."

"Are you saying he's going to be all right?"

"Not yet, but it's looking better. If he continues to do well, we may be able to move him upstairs by the end of the week. His chances are improving, Alex."

She turned her attention back to her partner. _Improving_...that was a word that she wanted to hear. As long as he continued to fight, she felt certain he would recover. She wasn't a doctor, but she knew her partner. She'd seen the fight in his eyes when he refused to take a deep breath for Harper. More than anything else, it was that stubborn defiance that gave her hope that he was going to be all right. He was not going to give up, and they were not going to let him.


	4. Back in Her Care

Eames looked at her watch as she entered the intensive care unit. It had been a very long day and she was tired and frustrated. She was looking forward to going home to a nice long hot bath before crawling into bed and sleeping off her aggravation with her temporary partner. As difficult as Bobby could be, he always respected her. She couldn't say the same about Arnie Dubek. She had spent the last few years ignoring the rumors about her and Bobby. Unfortunately, she had no control over other people. Dubek, apparently, was one of those who believed them, and he got it into his thick head that her time in vice led her to treat all her partners with a certain level of inordinate affection. Today, he'd actually gone so far as to tell another detective that if she could sleep with Goren, he was a shoo-in. That led to an explosion and Dubek was directly in the blast zone. Even Deakins came out of his office to find out what was wrong. But there were no words to mollify her anger. Dubek had apologized after spending the better part of an hour in the captain's office, but that wasn't good enough for Eames. Adopting a tone of voice she'd learned from Goren, she informed Dubek in no uncertain terms that she had never slept with _any_ partner of hers, including Goren, and she wasn't about to start, so if he had any ideas, he'd better get rid of them now or she would get rid of them for him. Truth be told, she would never deny that she loved Goren, but it was a love that never crossed the line from friendship to forbidden romance. He was her closest friend, and she had worked hard to gain his trust. Nothing in the world would make her risk that trust...or their partnership.

She stopped in the doorway to his room and smiled softly. Barb looked up when she heard her and returned her smile. "Hi, Alex."

"How's he doing, Barb?"

"He had a good day, they told me. He still has a lot of trouble dealing with the pain, but with medication, he can handle it."

"Did you get to see him?"

"No. We've had a lot of admissions over the past few days, and I haven't even had a chance to get lunch since Tuesday. But I come down after my shift every night. Of course, by then he's well sedated and sleeping."

"Why do they keep him sedated? I want to see him, to talk to him and see for myself how he's doing."

Barb sighed. She knew exactly how she felt. "It's for his own good, Alex. If he wasn't sedated, he'd be fighting that pain all the time, needlessly draining his strength. This way he can get real, healing rest and that's exactly what he needs."

Eames sighed. "It's best for him?"

"Yes."

She looked at Eames as a hand rested gently on her arm, reading the concern and the unspoken question in her eyes. "Dr. Harper can be a difficult man to read," she said. "But I have known him for a very long time. I have learned to read between his lines, so to speak, and I can tell what his words really mean. Bobby may not be out of danger yet, but he's heading that way. Otherwise, he'd never be talking about transferring him upstairs."

Barb let her eyes stray back to his pale face. Their needs—hers and Alex's—were secondary to his. She reached out and lightly caressed the side of his face. "You still care about him," Eames said softly.

"Of course I do. That has never changed."

Eames smiled softly. "I'm glad. I don't worry so much when you're here."

"Thank you. In some ways I wish more patients were like him, but in a lot more ways I wish none were."

Eames found herself laughing. "I've heard that before. There aren't too many people out there like him."

"No, there aren't. We can thank God for small favors."

Barb appreciated his individuality; he never let anyone tell him how to be. That also made his care more difficult because he hated being told what to do, whether it was for his benefit or not. Even so, she had always found herself irresistibly drawn to him. Beyond the obstinate defiance, she'd found a kind, gentle man with a wounded soul, and he had touched her heart.

* * *

Barb was at the nurses' station catching up on her charts when Harper appeared in front of her. She looked at the time and smiled at the older man. "It's dinnertime, Ray. Won't Elsie be missing you?" 

He smiled at her gentle teasing. "Elsie has more experience with keeping dinner warm and palatable than any woman I know. I want to talk to you about Bobby Goren."

She nodded, finished her entry and closed the chart in front of her, sliding it into its place on the rack beside her. She looked up at him. "How is he?"

"The man's a fighter. A week ago I would have laid even money that he wasn't going to survive. Tomorrow, he's coming up here."

Barb's face lit up. "You didn't tell me he was doing that well."

"Yesterday he wasn't. Today he is. Unless he takes a bad turn overnight, I want him up here first thing in the morning. Are you scheduled tomorrow?"

"No, but I'll come in."

"Are you sure? I don't want to impose on your free time."

Barb smiled. "No imposition. I think my cat will survive if I give up my day off."

The doctor laughed. "Thank you. Don't give yourself any other patients. I want you to keep a close eye on him. You know him, Barb, and you have a good rapport with him. I won't lie to you. He's been spending a good hour or more awake at a time, and I know he has a lot of pain, but he's being difficult. He refuses to breathe deeply, and he needs to or that lung is going to collapse again or he'll end up with pneumonia. You've never let him get away with anything and he seems to respond to you better than any of the other nurses."

"He knows me and he's comfortable with me. But I think the big issue is that he trusts me. I'll make sure he does what he's supposed to do."

"I know you will, my dear. That's why I want you taking care of him. He intimidates the hell out of Carrie and Daphne, even in his condition. I'm running out of nurses willing to put up with his attitude, even for the hour or so he's awake. You'll have to talk to them for details. They like him, but he's a handful." He sighed. "I'm going to order the sedatives discontinued about an hour before the transfer. When he gets up here, I'll double the dosage of his pain medicine, but watch his breathing carefully."

"I'll take care of him, don't worry."

Harper smiled. "Now, I have meatloaf waiting for me at home. Expect him before nine."

"I'll be ready. Enjoy your dinner, and say hello to Elsie for me."

Harper gave her shoulder an affectionate squeeze. Barb breathed a deep sigh of relief and turned to the phone. Alex would be just as relieved to hear what she had to say.

* * *

He coughed and groaned as pain set his chest on fire. He tried not to breathe deeply, but his body had other ideas, drawing forth another pain-wrenching cough. He swore. 

"Now, now..." a gentle voice admonished him.

He knew that voice. He forced his eyes open and turned his head toward her. She was dressed in blue scrubs and was every bit as beautiful as he remembered. She looked away from the IV for a moment and smiled at him. "Hey, sleepyhead," she said. "Welcome back."

He let his eyes slowly stray over her. Soft chestnut brown hair framed a lovely oval face with slightly prominent cheekbones, a small nose and a perfectly formed mouth. She had smooth, unblemished skin that made her look eternally young and a petite, well-toned body that he had always loved to watch. "Barb," he said softly, in far too much pain to dwell on the circumstances of their last parting.

Her eyes filled with warm affection. "We really need to stop meeting like this, Bobby," she teased as she pulled a syringe from her pocket and injected half the contents into his IV line. "Give that a minute."

She leaned her hip against the bed rail and placed her hand in his, watching as his body began to relax. "Better?" He nodded, tightening his hand around hers. She continued to speak softly. "I was in the emergency room when they brought you in," she said. "You gave us all a real scare."

His voice was very quiet. "They told me it was a rough ride."

"I can't tell you how lucky you were. That bullet did a lot of damage, but your lung will heal. Now... I've been told you're being stubborn about your breathing. What's up with that?"

He frowned at her. "It hurts to breathe deeply."

"It's supposed to. No pain, no gain, remember?"

She saw the annoyance flare in his eyes, giving him the strength he needed to continue the conversation. "All right, Barb. I'm in a hell of a lot of pain. What gain am I getting?"

"Well, you get to spend another few weeks in my company."

His mouth twitched into an affectionate smile he couldn't suppress. "That almost makes it worth getting shot."

"Charmer," she accused with another soft smile. "You don't have to go to these extremes, you know. You have my number. Then you don't have to share me with anyone else."

She didn't expect the shadow that crossed his face or the bitterness of his tone. "Tell that to my job and my mother..."

"I know, I know...your life is crowded enough."

His grip tightened a little more. "That isn't what I meant," he muttered.

He didn't quite know how to tell her he would welcome a little more crowding if she was the one doing the crowding. But she had been the one to break it off, and he was in too much pain to think about asking her much of anything. He didn't have what it would take to carry on any kind of prolonged conversation.

She added a little more medicine to his line and pulled out her stethoscope. He watched her, eyes guarded, as she listened carefully. Then she draped her stethoscope over her shoulders. She saw the confusion in his eyes. "What?"

"You didn't ask me to take a deep breath."

"And you're disappointed?"

"Well, no...but everyone else has been harassing me about it."

"Have I ever harassed you about anything?"

"Uh, no." She never harassed him, but he always ended up doing what she asked.

"Why would I start now?" She leaned against the bed rail again. "There are two very good reasons why you should breathe deeply."

"I know, I know. And I have a good reason not to."

"My reasons are better."

He laughed spontaneously, then coughed and deeply groaned. Like his partner, Barb had always been able to get him to laugh, whether he felt like laughing or not. She smiled broadly. "Well, that's an acceptable option."

"Not fair," he whispered.

"Totally fair," she countered, pressing the stethoscope against the right side of his chest again. "That's better." She looked at him as she draped the instrument back over her shoulders. "I'll take what I can get, Bobby, and if that means playing in a way you think isn't fair, then I will." She leaned closer. "But I am never going to do anything that will harm you."

"I know that, Barb."

She watched him struggle as his eyes tried to close. She let a finger lightly caress his temple. "Don't fight it. Save your energy for the real fight. I'm not going anywhere; we'll talk later."

He studied her, once again filled with regret for what had happened. _This isn't your fault, Bobby. Not at all. I'm the one who just can't handle the roller coaster right now._

He struggled for a few minutes more while she continued her light caress of his temple and his forehead. And he lost the battle to stay awake.

She adjusted the rate on his IV pump and injected the last of the dose of painkiller into his IV line. He'd managed fairly well on less than the dose Harper had prescribed, and she was pleased about that. But there was no way to predict if it would last. For now she would continue to give him the medication as scheduled. It was so much easier to maintain pain control than it was trying to play catch-up. She didn't want him starting behind the eight ball, although she had no doubt he would end up putting himself behind it later, when he had more control over the path his care took. A noise behind her drew her attention from him.

"Hi, Barb," Eames greeted her warmly, as she usually did.

She smiled. She genuinely liked Bobby's partner and the way she always watched out for him. Heaven knew the man needed someone to rein in his reckless tendencies. "Hello, Alex."

"You always manage to get assigned as his nurse."

"Seniority has its privileges and I make the schedule," she said with a small laugh. "Besides, someone has to keep him in line. He won't listen to anyone but you and me."

"That's true."

An alarm drew Barb's attention back to the sleeping man. She glanced up at the monitor over his bed and leaned over him to grab an oxygen cannula. She turned the oxygen on and slipped the cannula into place on his face. "Is he all right?" Eames asked, unsettled as she was every time an alarm sounded over his bed. The first few days after the shooting had been harrowing for her and it had certainly been no picnic for the medical staff.

"Yes. He's fine. His breathing is too shallow to keep his sats up. It's the pain when he's awake and the medicine when he sleeps. He was doing pretty well this morning and they were hoping he's gotten past that, but apparently he hasn't. He just needs a little help."

"They've been harassing him to breathe more deeply and he's been refusing."

"I heard all about it. Three ICU nurses refused to take care of him, although they liked visiting him whenever he was awake. They told me he's 'charming but difficult'. Typically Bobby," she smiled. "Don't worry about him. I'll make sure he does what he's supposed to. I always do, and he usually lets me."

"I don't think that has much to do with your nursing skill," Eames teased her.

Barb laughed softly, but with an underlying sadness that made Eames regret the teasing. Whatever had gone on between them that led to her breaking it off before it even got started, it obviously still hurt her, too. "Sit with him, Alex. I have to run out to the desk for a few minutes for his antibiotics."

"He has an infection?"

"Oh, no...it's routine prophylaxis. We don't want him getting an infection. In his weakened condition, it could very well prove fatal. Call if anything concerns you, but I won't be gone long."

Eames nodded. She watched Barb leave as she sat by her partner's bedside and held his hand. She studied him as he slept and wondered again what had happened inside him when Barb told him she couldn't handle the uncertainty of his life. It wasn't like he could control it, and it seemed to her Barb regretted her decision. But would he be up for giving her another chance? That was something she couldn't predict. Bobby wasn't big on giving second chances to anyone who hurt him...but somehow, Barb seemed special. Maybe...if there was still a spark between them, Barb could reignite what seemed to have gone out in him. Eames could only hope...

* * *

Barb returned fifteen minutes later. Eames watched her hook up the antibiotic dose to his IV tubing. "There. Now I need to work on getting him to breathe more deeply, and he needs to cough. We'll see how his stamina is for staying awake to start with, and maybe I can get him up within the week." 

"He's going to hate you."

She smiled. "He should be used to me by now. I always make him do things he hates to do, but he keeps coming back for more."

"He's a glutton for punishment."

The nurse looked at Goren, then back at his partner. This room was a much more relaxed environment than the ICU was, and knowing he would recover took a great deal of stress off both women. Barb studied his face and very softly admitted, "I've really missed him, Alex. He's never been far from my thoughts." _Or my dreams..._

"So why didn't you call him?"

"I tried once," she admitted. "He was still angry with me for not giving him a fair chance. But I _did_ give him a fair chance. If we'd managed to get through one date, or even to dessert just once..." She sighed. "He never left me hanging. He always made sure I had a ride home and he never stuck me with a check...but that wasn't the point."

She'd been beyond frustrated and she was certain he felt the same. But she had done what she'd felt at the time she had to do, and the pain in his eyes was something she had never forgotten. Seeing him in the emergency room, though, dying of a gunshot wound to the chest, had badly shaken her. There had been so much damage, so much blood... She relived those hours every night when she went to sleep. Maybe now, since she'd had a chance to talk to him, the nightmares would go away and the blood would wash from her dreams. She would give anything to get back her other dreams of him...the dreams that reality had never touched and likely never would.

Eames watched her face, saw the sorrow of her memories. "Do you regret it, Barb?"

"Telling him it wasn't going to work? Yes. Very much. I often think I should have tried harder, been more understanding. But every time I gave him another chance, it was worse than the time before, and I just couldn't take any more disappointment. It was getting to the point that it almost hurt physically, and I didn't need another pain-filled relationship."

Eames frowned and wondered what she meant by another pain-filled relationship. She wondered if Bobby knew. "Someone else hurt you?"

"Yes, also unintentionally. There really is more to this than meets the eye, Alex. There's a real reason why it was too much for me at the time. Now...now I'm afraid it's too late. I know I hurt him. I saw that in his eyes. And I don't think he realizes how much it hurt me, too."

"Probably not. Talk to him about it...if he'll let you."

"That's a big 'if'. I've seen him shut down, even with you."

There was no denying Goren's tendency to shut down in the face of overwhelming pain, and Eames had seen that in him six months ago. She wondered if he would be open to giving Barb another chance. She also wondered, and not for the first time, when he was going to start looking out for himself, how long it would take before he could let himself be happy. He deserved to be happy, even if he didn't believe that he did. After talking to Barb and seeing what she saw in the nurse's eyes, she believed that he had one more shot at it, one more chance to be happy with a woman he obviously cared about. Her biggest obstacle would be convincing him... _We weren't meant to be..._ Eames didn't believe that for a moment, not after what she saw in him when Barb broke it off. She resolved to push Barb to give him another chance, and then do whatever she had to do to get him to take it.


	5. Not A Good Morning

When Barb came in the next morning and received the night nurse's report, she was surprised to find out that Bobby had been awake on and off for brief periods throughout the night. He had slept nearly the entire day before. She was also pleased to hear that he had asked for her and seemed disappointed that she had gone home. She was not surprised to hear that he had steadfastly refused to take any deep breaths and he minimized his body's attempts to clear his lungs by coughing. No matter what she did, his night nurse could not convince him to cooperate in that regard. Barb smiled to herself. _Let the battle of wills commence._

He was awake when she strolled into his room with an IV bag of antibiotics and a syringe filled with medicine. She smiled at him, a genuine smile because she really was glad to see him awake and alert. She was glad to see him, period. "Good morning, Bobby."

She was pleased to see a brief smile touch his face in spite of his pain. "Hello, Barb."

"I heard you were surprised to learn I actually do go home once in awhile."

Amusement flickered in his eyes. "I have wondered about that, yes."

"You know I go home. Someone has to feed the cat and water the plants."

"M-marcus?"

She was deeply impressed. "Yes. Marcus. You remember my cat's name?"

He shrugged and shifted his position in the bed. She injected the medicine into his IV and slid her stethoscope from her shoulders. Lowering the side rail of the bed, she said, "Let's see how those lungs sound."

She leaned closer and placed the stethoscope against the right side of his chest, closing her eyes in concentration. Beneath the scent of soap and antiseptic, he could smell her shampoo: strawberry. Because she worked in a hospital, she wore no perfume, but that didn't stop him from remembering the scents she did prefer...subtle, understated, classy...like she was. He leaned his head slightly away, to afford himself a better view of her face, and he studied her, his mind traveling back six months to a place he didn't really want to go.

_It was a nice restaurant, a treat for both since he'd gotten called away so often. He wasn't understanding the poor timing of his dates with her. Every single one of them ended with him paying the bill for an unfinished meal and calling her a cab, leaving her with more than enough cash to pay for it and a promise to make it up to her, which he desperately tried to do. He felt good about that night. Eames was out on her own date—a guy named Roger that he didn't particularly care for, too uptight for her, in his opinion—and they weren't on call for a change. Barb looked amazing and he was looking forward to the entire night. He ordered their drinks and then...Carmel Ridge called. His mother had taken a sudden detour from reality in the dining room and was being treated for lacerations to her arms and legs where she slashed herself with a broken glass. They wanted him to get out there as quickly as he could. He had to leave, and that had been the last straw for poor Barb. He stammered an excuse about his mother being sick and he had to go to take care of her; she had no clue about his mother's condition. It hadn't been the first time he had to leave because of his mother. He tried to apologize, but she had slowly shaken her head. When she finally looked at him, her eyes were filled with tears and her voice was thick with holding them back._

"_I can't handle this, Bobby. It's too much. If we could get through one date without you getting called away, that would be different. We need to face facts. You have no time for me, and I can't continue this way. Maybe when things settle down, when your mother gets better, we can give it another try. Maybe..."_

_He'd stopped listening at that point. When his mother got better...that was never going to happen, and it took away the maybe of her statement. What she ultimately meant was that there was no future for them, and that hit him hard, much harder than he expected it to. He was certainly used to women breaking it off with him, but this woman, somehow, was different than the rest. He'd developed a deep attachment to Barb and he cared very much for her, much moreso than he ever had with his dates before. He thought that things would be different with her, and in many ways they were. He wasn't disappointed that he'd never gotten her into bed; that had not been his goal for a change. He'd begun to realize, too late to prevent it, that he had fallen in love with her..._

He hadn't been able to chase away the bitter anger that had filled him that night. Eames saw it; he knew she did. But his partner knew him well enough not to ask, and she never did. It took a long time for the anger to fade, but the hurt never did. He'd let her get close, too damn close...and he paid the price for that, over and over, and he was paying for it again, now...

She moved. Placing a gentle hand on his right shoulder, she leaned over him to place the stethoscope against his left side. She was a small woman and she had to stretch to reach across him. He had no complaint about that. He knew she was intent solely on listening to him and she wasn't paying attention to anything but hearing the rush of air in and out of his lungs. But he _was_ paying attention, and he was struggling. He raised a hand to touch her, but her words came back to haunt him and he lowered it again. She shifted to reach the lowest part of his left side, and her chest pressed into him. He gasped softly and triggered a volley of coughing that he tried hard to suppress. She pulled back and watched him with concerned eyes. When he doubled over from the pain, she laid a cool hand on his back, lightly rubbing to comfort him, and he gave up, letting the pain take over and drive him back into unconsciousness.


	6. Uncertainty

His chest was still throbbing when he woke again, but he was alone in the room. Bracing himself against the pain he knew was coming, he forced himself up higher in the bed and raised the head of it so he was sitting up. He hated being in bed and the sooner he got out of it, the better. That was another thing about Barb he appreciated. She never gave him a break. She would have him up and out of this bed within the next few days. Then he could start planning to go home. He wasn't about to stay here any longer than he had to, and not even that long, if he could help it. The infection he'd gotten last time taught him an important lesson: Get while the getting was good. Once his IV medicine was switched to oral and he was back on a regular diet, there was no good reason, in his mind, for him to stay.

He reached over to the tray table and, with a shaking hand that annoyed the crap out of him, he poured himself a cup of water. Mustard yellow cup and pitcher with a matching washbin and kidney basin someplace in the room, hospital-issue...well, he liked that better than the dusky pink alternative. He had a stack of both on the shelf in his bedroom closet.

His throat was hot, but the water was cool and he sighed softly, fighting down a cough. He wasn't sure which hurt more, the coughing or the struggle not to, which also set his chest on fire, and it made the urge to cough even stronger. But he was successful in putting off the cough often enough that it was worth the effort. He looked up as the door opened, which distracted him from his effort and allowed a cough to slip through, followed by two more, and he groaned.

She set the plastic container she carried on the end of the bed and shook her head. "If you wouldn't fight it, it wouldn't hurt quite so bad."

"It hurts even less if I don't cough at all."

"That catches up with you, Bobby, and you know it."

He waved a hand impatiently and changed the subject. "When are you going to get me out of this bed?"

She looked surprised. "For someone so intent on avoiding pain, that's a very odd question."

"The sooner I get up, the sooner I go home."

She thought sadly that she had to be part of the reason for his rush to be discharged. This had to be as hard for him as it was for her. She sighed and some of the hardness left his face at the sound. Not noticing, she shook her head slowly. "I don't think you're ready to get up just yet. Right now, I need to change your dressings, but first, let me listen to you again."

"Doesn't your stethoscope get enough use?"

She smiled and he felt more of the edge in his attitude fade. He tried to draw it back and failed. She stepped up to the right side of the bed and rested a hand on his abdomen as she listened to his left lung, which she expected to still be clear. "That's good." She moved the instrument over to his right side and frowned deeply as she listened. "That's not. I need a few more coughs from you."

"Screw that," he grumbled.

She sighed impatiently. "We can do this a couple of ways, Bobby. You can do what I ask and cough for me. Take a couple of deep breaths. Be _compliant_. Or I can stick a suction catheter down into your lung, and I promise you that is horribly unpleasant when you're awake. Of course, I can always play dirty. I can get you to cough, dear, but I really would rather you do it on your own. You're not going to get out of it because refusal is not an option with me. I know it hurts, and I'm sorry about that. But I did not shoot you so it's not my fault you have to go through all this. You don't want to be here, and I get that. I know I'm not your favorite person these days. But I want to see you get well and go home and get on with your life. So cough, dammit."

_I'm not your favorite person these days. _That wasn't true, not in the least. She was most definitely one of his favorite people on any day. But he didn't know how to tell her that, or even if he should. What purpose could it possibly serve but to open himself up to more pain he didn't want to deal with? So he simply looked away.

"So what's it going to be?" she pushed. "Are you going to do this the easy way?"

"There is no easy way," he complained. Then he drew on his remaining annoyance and snapped, "What exactly do you plan to do about it?"

A challenge...she suppressed a smile. He always made things interesting. She feigned a thoughtful look. "I can get you to cough _and_ get out of bed with one little piece of equipment."

It was a struggle to get his mind out of the gutter, imagining all different kinds of equipment she could successfully use and she'd never have to leave the room...but that wasn't her style. _It's not going to work, Bobby. _We _aren't going to work..._

"What equipment?"

"A simple ice cube."

His eyes got wide and she gave him a wicked grin. That did it...he couldn't help laughing. And of course, she got her way because a series of coughs followed his soft laugh. He swore, not particularly caring about manners at the moment because it hurt. She felt badly, but it was for his own good. After he settled, she listened to his lung again. "Much better. Now I can hear air movement."

"Good for you," he grumbled, suffering through another cough as loose mucous rattled in his chest.

"Believe me," she said as she laid a hand on his arm, searching his eyes for something beyond anger and irritation. "You do not want pneumonia. You were annoyed when you got that infection after your appendectomy. A pneumonia right now would be so much worse."

As he struggled not to lose himself in her eyes, he failed to hear a word she'd said. But he was aware that she'd stopped talking and he got the feeling he'd missed something. "Hm? What?"

Reluctantly, she moved away to retrieve the box she had set on the foot of the bed. "I said you really don't want to get pneumonia."

"Oh, uh, no, I don't."

"Then listen to me, please. I am not trying to torture you."

_Ah, but you are...you really are... _and it was going to take him some time to regain his emotional balance.

She set the box on the nightstand beside the bed and rested her arms on the bed rail, interlacing her fingers together. She looked at him, and he watched her gaze wander around his face until it finally came to rest on his eyes.

"How have you been?" she asked, delving into the personal realm for the first time.

His answer was a shrug. She would know how he was if she had not chosen to walk away. "Okay," he muttered, an answer that was only partly true.

"Alex said work has been busy."

"There will never be a shortage of criminals in New York. Unfortunately, I'll always have a job." Not unfortunate for him...it was the job, and his partner, that saved him from himself.

"Not so unfortunate for the people you protect, like that little boy."

She watched his eyes fill with the memory of the child and the father intent on killing him, to take him from his mother..."Uh, h-he wasn't hurt?"

"No. You did your job." She sighed. _Might as well jump in with both feet and see what he does. _"I've missed you, Bobby."

His body stiffened and she watched the hurt flicker across his face. "You were the one who wanted it this way," he said, unable to keep the injured tone from his voice.

After six months, it still hurt him this much? She would wonder at that if she was not feeling the same pain. "No," she said softly. "Not what I wanted. What had to be, at the time."

"Why?"

She was surprised at the amount of despair he could fit into one word, and a cold hand gripped her heart. "Oh, Bobby...it wasn't working..."

"It would have..." he said, a hint of desperation in his voice. "...if you'd given us a chance."

"A chance? I gave us a lot of chances, and you got called away every single time."

"I'm _sorry_ about that, but it wasn't my fault."

He was getting too upset; his breathing was getting ragged. He was not ready for this yet. She reached out her hand and closed it over his. "Calm down. I know it wasn't your fault. I told you that. Look, we can talk about this later. I don't want to be the reason for your lung to collapse again, so please, settle down."

She watched as he took a few deep breaths, searching to mitigate emotional pain with physical. She tightened her grip on his hand, reassured that he did not pull away. She needed to make this right with him, and she was going to, but not while he was still in such a weakened state. He couldn't handle the intensity of his own emotions right now. Her free hand moved to touch his cheek and he closed his eyes, leaning his head into her hand, and he seemed to relax. Her thumb moved in a brief caress and she finally said, "I need to change your dressings and look at those wounds."

He nodded, suppressing a powerful urge to turn his head and kiss her palm. _What had to be, at the time ...at the time..._ Maybe things were different now. Maybe she would give him one more chance to prove that he really did want this to work between them. But was he really up for giving her one more chance...one more chance to hurt him...? In silence, he watched her walk across the room to the sink. Her scrubs were loose-fitting, comfortable and practical for the job she did, but recalling the dress she wore the last time he saw her, he knew what lay beneath, and he could still see hints of the strong, well-toned body she took such good care of. His mind went blank for a moment...well, not _entirely_ blank...and he knew right then that, yes, he would give her another chance, if she wanted to take it. Curse his damn heart and his traitorous body...he was still in love with her...

Returning to the bedside, she opened the box, drawing him reluctantly back into the present. She glanced at his chest, examining the dressings with a practiced eye. It had not passed her notice that he was shirtless, and she understood exactly why. He was always annoyed by doctors and nurses messing with his shirt to look at whatever it was they needed to see on his chest or abdomen, so he always ditched his shirt, choosing to remain only in the hospital-issue pajama bottoms. Once the poking and prodding lessened in frequency enough to not annoy him quite so much, he returned to wearing a shirt. At that point, Alex would have brought him a stack of t-shirts from home. Barb had never once heard a nurse complain that he refused to put on a shirt.

She took out the supplies she needed and turned to lift the edge of the bandage that covered his exit wound. She gently removed the dressing. _She's always gentle, always careful,_ he mused as he watched her hands.

She studied the injury carefully. It was a nasty wound, but it was healing. _Normal serous discharge, extensive redness and swelling, but no infection. Good._

She prepared a wound dressing, added antibiotic ointment to the gauze and gently laid the dressing over the wound. She smoothed the tape in place with her fingertips and looked at him when he groaned. "You okay?"

Irritation suddenly flared from nowhere and he answered before he could suppress it. "If I was okay, would I be here?"

"Don't blame me for this, Bobby. Move your arm please."

He did as she asked so she could remove the dressing and examine the bullet's entrance wound. _No swelling, minimal redness, no discharge._ _Very good._ She made this dressing smaller than the one she had removed, added the ointment and pressed it into place, again smoothing the tape lightly with her fingers. She looked up at him again when he made another noise. This time she wasn't so certain it was pain-induced. She searched his eyes questioningly. All trace of irritation was gone from his face, but she wasn't quite sure what had taken its place. He gave her a simple reassuring smile, which she returned.

He watched her move around to the other side of the bed and reach out her hand to touch the area of extensive bruising below his left collarbone. When she touched him, he closed his eyes, focusing on the cool fingers that traced their way over his warm skin. The bruise protested even her light touch, and he suppressed a groan of pain as her fingers passed over his fractured ribs.

She was careful to be gentle, but even so she noticed when his muscles flexed in protest. This injury still hurt him as well, and she fully suspected it would. But one of the fractures was serious and hard coughing, which he avoided like the plague but could not completely escape, could cause complications that could injure his healthy lung. She had to watch it closely for another few weeks, until the danger was passed. _No displacement, minimal swelling,_ she noted. _Good_.

"How's your mother?" she asked out of the blue.

His eyes snapped open and she didn't miss the sudden tension in his body. His mother? It had been so hard for him not to blame her, at least in part, for what had happened. How could Barb not feel bitter toward her? But he saw no bitterness in her eyes, just genuine concern. "Uh, she's all right."

"Has she gotten better?"

"She's better than she was six months ago."

That was the truth. She was stable right now. But why did he say that? Was he honestly answering her question, or trying to reopen a door that had been resolutely slammed and locked half a year ago?

"That's good. I'm sorry she's sick."

Again, she sounded sincere, and he didn't doubt that she was. He wasn't sure he could be so forgiving, unless...if she hadn't been as affected by the break-up as he was...break-up...he couldn't even call it that. You had to _have_ a relationship in order to break one up.

"Let me get your vitals and check one or two more things, then I'll leave you alone."

"Um, do you have many other patients?"

"No. Right now, it's just you. I was supposed to be off yesterday and today."

He frowned and tilted his head to try to catch her eyes. "You came in on your days off? To take care of me?"

"Yes. I'm sure Marcus will recover from my absence."

Maybe the cat would, but he wasn't sure about himself. "Why, uh, why did you do that?"

She continued with her examination, avoiding the answer to his question for a few minutes. She was debating which answer to give him, not at all certain how he was feeling about being under her care again, except that he was angry. "Dr. Harper said I have a rapport with you, and you don't give me a fraction of the trouble you give the other nurses. He doesn't know that you give me just as much trouble. I just don't let you get away with it. He wants you to recover, too, you know. Doctors hate losing patients, especially patients they have come to know and to like. So he asked me if I would take care of you right now..." She hesitated for a moment before she added, "And I wanted to. So here I am." She was silent while she counted his pulse rate, then she pulled out a thermometer and stuck it under his tongue. "But you really don't seem to want me here...so..." she trailed off, not wanting to continue the thought and acknowledge the pain that came with it, especially not in front of him.

What the fuck was he doing? He heard the dismay in her voice and saw her trying to hide the pain in her face. He took the thermometer out of his mouth and reached a hand toward her, gently grasping her forearm and leaning forward in search of her eyes. "Is that what you think?"

"Put that thermometer back in your mouth," she admonished.

"No. Not until you answer me."

"Yes, Bobby. That's exactly what I think," she answered, choosing to search for annoyance to counter the heartache she felt.

He sat back and she retrieved the thermometer from the bed, turning it off and back on, then replacing it in his mouth. "Leave it alone."

She meant the thermometer. He misunderstood and looked away. When the small instrument beeped, she pulled it out of his mouth and frowned at the reading. His temperature was elevated, and she didn't like that one bit. She looked up at him. "How do you feel?"

The truth of the matter was he felt like shit, and everything that was coming back to haunt him did not help him feel any better. "I'm fine," he lied.

"Nice try. Let's go for a real answer now."

Anger flared again, coupled with annoyance. He was tired of being all over the emotional map, but right now he couldn't find the equilibrium he sought. "What do you want to hear, Barb? Every muscle in my body aches and my chest feels like it has a truck parked on it. I have a sledgehammer pounding away inside my head and I can't breathe. The damn medicine you give me makes me sick to my stomach, and it doesn't do a whole helluva lot for the pain, and that just adds to everything. I don't want to be here and..." He stopped himself. She didn't deserve his anger, not for this. It wasn't her fault he was here and he shouldn't take it out on her. He took a few slow, but shallow breaths and calmed himself. His voice softened. "I'm sorry for taking it out on you. I-I've been an ass to you, and you, of all people, don't deserve that. Pl-please don't think I don't want you here." _...because I do...I really do... _"I, uh, I never could figure out how you and Eames put up with me."

She felt a surge of anger at his tirade, but it quickly faded with his apology. "That's a good question. I'm not sure how we do it, either." Her voice was firm, but it softened. "I just know that we do, and willingly." He damn near melted when she smiled at him. "Never try to second guess a woman, Bobby. We'll spin you in circles."

Wasn't that the truth? Sometimes he felt like he was on an eternal merry-go-round. "Forgive me?" He tried not to make it sound like a plea, but that's exactly what it was.

"Only on one condition."

"What's that?"

"I need you to forgive me, too."

He looked confused. "You didn't do anything."

"Stop lying to me to make me feel better. It doesn't suit you." Her voice became quiet. "I never meant to hurt you, and I hurt myself, too, in the process." She touched his hand with her fingertips and refused to look at his face. "I don't blame you for being angry, but you have to know that I had my reasons. And...and I am sorry." She turned to the dressing box and closed it. "I'll be back in a little while. I'll bring you something to drink and we'll see about getting you up into a chair for a bit this afternoon. I'll call Dr. Harper about ordering a different pain medicine for you. There are certainly plenty to choose from."

Before he could recover from her apology, she was gone from the room. He leaned back in the bed and watched the ceiling. Anger and pain had driven him, but the anger was gone. He wondered if there still might be a chance for him to be a part of her life. There was no denying his desire to let her be part of his. With the driving force of his state of consciousness gone, he felt himself slipping once more toward sleep, and after a brief struggle, he gave in to it.


	7. Recovering

Not much changed over the course of the week. He was able to stay up for longer periods, and Barb got him out of bed as often as she felt he could handle it. She was very good at reading his fatigue and making him remain within the limits of his stamina. Eames came by every evening as close to dinnertime as she could, so she could eat dinner with him, and he always waited for her. She and Barb both stressed the need for him to remain in the hospital but they both knew he was not listening. He wanted to go home, and he was determined to get there as soon as possible.

* * *

Barb was leaning over him to study the exit wound in his chest. He was studying her. She shifted her eyes up to meet his and smiled. She was pleased that he had become more relaxed, and she felt reassured by his frequent scrutiny, but nothing had yet been resolved. She had hesitated to bring it up again for fear his emotional intensity would cause a setback in his recovery. The last thing she wanted was to be the cause of any more pain for him, physical or emotional. He was improving, and she wanted him to continue improving. 

As she was finishing with the dressing, Eames came into the room carrying two styrofoam containers. She smiled at them. "Am I interrupting?" she asked, her voice hopeful.

"No," Goren answered, too quickly.

She raised her eyebrows and looked at Barb, who smiled and finished applying the dressing to the wound in his chest. It was healing nicely. She lightly touched his shoulder and he shifted his position so she could change the dressing on his side. Eames set a styrofoam container on the tray table beside him and leaned over to place an affectionate kiss on his forehead. "You look good today. How are you feeing?"

"Like I've been hit by a truck," he complained.

"If it makes you feel any better you look about like that."

"It doesn't, thanks."

She smiled. "Any time."

He returned her smile. "How's work?"

"A pain in the ass without you there. Dubek is really getting on my nerves."

"That's not good. What did he do?"

"Don't worry about it. Come on; let's eat."

His attention was drawn from her for a moment as Barb smoothed her hand over the new dressing on his side. She looked up. "What's wrong? Did that hurt?"

"Um, no..." He trailed off, but didn't look away. It was getting more and more difficult for him to draw his attention away from her. As pain became less of a distraction, she became more of one.

"Just let me look at that bruise under your collarbone and I'll be out of your hair."

"You're not," he protested gently.

"Not what?"

"In my hair."

She laughed quietly, much preferring this quiet, gentle affection to the anger and irritability that he'd hidden behind most of last week. He still had times when he lashed out at her, but they were becoming fewer as time progressed. Mostly, his anger surfaced when he tried to bring up being discharged and she let him know it was not a topic for discussion just yet. He still needed to remain hospitalized, whether he agreed with the decision or not. She smiled. "Eat your dinner and talk to Alex, Bobby."

Eames grinned mischievously. "Yes," she agreed. "You can flirt with Barb later."

His face colored as he looked at her. "I can _what_?"

Both women laughed but he frowned, unamused. He hadn't planned to ask Eames about her day, but if she wanted to play games, he was up for it. He leaned back in his chair, trying to ignore Barb's examination of the upper left side of his chest. "All right, Eames. Tell me how your date went this afternoon."

She suppressed a smile. "When was the last time you told me about one of your dates?"

"Uh...when was the last time you asked?"

"Last month. Um...Melanie, I think her name was..."

He looked suddenly uncomfortable. Her smile widened and she winked at Barb, who just barely managed to hide her own smile. He shook his head at his partner. "Eames..."

"Of course," she went on, ignoring his warning. "We could talk about Tiffany."

"Eames..." he warned again.

She looked at Barb with a playful smile on her face. "I ran into him one night when he was out with her. She just didn't seem like his type, though."

"I don't _have_ a type," he protested. They'd had this discussion before and he did not relish rehashing it.

"Come on, Bobby. You at least like to carry on an intelligent conversation. Tiffany couldn't converse her way out of a wet paper sack."

He ran a frustrated hand over his hair. "Eames..." he pleaded.

Barb lightly touched his cheek. "I'm done here. Go ahead and enjoy your dinner. It's paperwork time for me," she smiled.

He watched her leave the room, then turned to face his smiling partner. "Not cool, Eames."

"What?" she asked innocently.

"Talking about Tiffany and Melanie..."

"Embarrassed?"

"No."

"Dating your nurse?"

"No!"

"Then what's the problem?" She wanted to hear him say what she knew was true, that he wanted more from Barb than nursing care.

"Nothing. No problem. Just don't do it again."

She laughed which darkened his frown. "You really hate being teased."

"I...It's more than that."

"Do tell," she pressed, crossing her legs and leaning forward with interest.

His eyes sparkled with a sudden gleam she found oddly unsettling. "Tell me about your date first."

She considered his offer. "All right, Bobby. His name is Teddy, he's the foreman on a midtown construction project and I think you'll like him."

"Not married?"

She snorted. "No, Goren. He's not married. I checked before I agreed to go out with him."

"Running background on your dates now, Eames?"

"No," she smirked. "Just a run through public records."

He laughed softly, holding his side with a wince. "Serves you right," she grumbled. "Now it's your turn."

He held up a hand. "Does he treat you right, Eames?"

She smiled affectionately at him. "Yes, Bobby. He does."

He nodded. That was all he needed to know. "Let me know if that changes."

"So you can strongarm him?"

He shook his head. "Just a friendly warning, that's all."

"I can take care of myself, you big ape."

"I know. It's just a precaution. I'm bigger than any of your brothers."

She laughed. "Okay, fine. _Now_ it's your turn."

He turned his attention to his meal and remained quiet. She waited. Finally, he looked up. "What do you want me to say?"

"For starters, why did you get so flustered when I mentioned Melanie and Tiffany?"

She watched in amusement as he fidgeted. "I, uh, you...it was just...bad timing."

"Because Barb was in the room?"

"Yes, I mean, no! I mean, uh, well, just don't do that any more."

"She thinks you're a monk?"

"A _what_?"

"She doesn't know that you date?"

"Uh, I don't know."

"You like her," she accused gently, seeing clearly that what he felt was more than that but she was unwilling to drive the poor guy under the bed by suggesting something stronger without first easing him deeper into a conversation.

The flush that touched his cheeks as he looked away confirmed his feelings more than his words were likely to. "I, uh, of course I like her."

"Are you really that thick?"

He looked confused. "Thick? What do you mean?"

"You can tell me, you know."

"Sure, I can tell you anything...except that..."

"Why?"

"Because there's nothing to tell."

His tone knocked the amusement right out of her. "But you want there to be, don't you?" He got very uncomfortable and turned away. "How does she feel?"

He shrugged, but it was all the answer she got from him. She sighed. "Have you talked to her about it?"

"A little. She won't talk any more now, not until I get out of here. It's too hard for me, she says."

"And is she right?"

He nodded. It was difficult for him, because it still hurt and he was nervous about opening himself to more pain. "Can we talk about something else now, please?"

"Bobby..."

"Please, Eames..."

She sighed, finally feeling sorry for him. She could tell he was confused and uncertain, but it was up to Barb to help him with that. She had already pushed as hard as she could without driving him away from her and into himself. She did not want to alienate him. Just one more request and she'd leave it alone..."Don't let her get away, Bobby."

Her voice was gentle and he studied her face, finding no trace of her earlier teasing playfulness. She was sincere, but he had no answer for her. He really needed to change the subject. "What did Dubek do?" he asked, returning the conversation to work, a topic of which he never seemed to tire.

"Never mind. Just eat your dinner."

"Come on, Eames. You know I'm not going to let you get away with that."

She sighed. Yes, she knew. She'd hoped he was feeling bad enough to let it slide, but she almost forgot who she was dealing with. This man was never one to let anything just slide. "It's difficult to get him to take me seriously. I have to plant an idea in his mind and then tell him how brilliant he is for coming up with it. I swear, Goren, if Deakins ever teams me up with him again, I'll kick your ass for making it necessary for me to have to have a temporary partner and then I'll strangle Dubek."

His eyes glowed with a cross between amusement and annoyance, intermingled with burning interest. "What's the case?"

"The governor's niece came to the city for a good time and it got away from her. She left the wrong place with the wrong guy and found herself mugged and left for dead in an alley. She spent almost as much time in intensive care as you did. Now it's fallen to us to figure out what happened. She's being hostile and her uncle wants to know what's taking us so long. He expected an arrest last week."

"How long have you had the case?"

"Too long. We drew it about a week after you got shot. She's going to be released from the hospital Monday and I'm afraid she's going to vanish in a puff of smoke as soon as she hits the streets. She's angry at us for bothering her and she's angry at her uncle for pushing the matter—and for managing to find reasons to extend her hospital stay. She just wants to let it drop, but the governor doesn't agree."

"She knows her assailant."

"I think so, too, but she's not talking. Every time I think I'm starting to get somewhere with her, Dubek jumps in and she withdraws. He won't let me run with it."

"Go see her by yourself."

"That'll go over big."

"Then let the case slip through your fingers. The governor can't force her to cooperate. If you can't get to her before she's discharged, you might as well write off the case."

"Maybe we can hold her as a material witness..."

"Oh, that'll make her less hostile."

She laughed and her eyes were unconsciously drawn to the bandages on his chest. Unbidden, her mind recalled images of him laying in intensive care after the shooting, blood going in through a vein in his arm and out through a tube in his chest. He'd looked so pale..._Have you ever discussed organ donation with him...?_

"Eames?"

She shook off the memories and returned to the present. "Are you sure you're feeling better?"

"You can't tell?"

That seemed to worry him, so she was quick to reassure. "You look a lot better than you did three weeks ago. But I know how you are, and how good you are at hiding things you don't want people to know."

"And you think I'm trying to appear to be better than I feel?"

"Yes." She hesitated. "Listen to me, will you? I have had many conversations with Dr. Harper over the last few years, and I have no doubt he has anything but your health and well-being at heart. Listen to the man. And listen to Barb. She cares about you more than I think you realize. They are not keeping you here just for the hell of it."

"I know that. But...I know I'll recover faster at home, that's all. And I won't end up sick as a dog with some damn bug I never would have caught in the first place if I'd been there."

"I know it's hard for you to trust anyone..."

"Trust isn't the issue, Eames. I do trust Barb. I just want to get the hell out of here. Now quit advocating for them and eat your dinner."

She laughed and shook her head. "What am I going to do with you?"

He shrugged. "Just...cope?"

"All right, Bobby. I'll cope."

Half an hour later, after checking her watch several times, she announced that she had better be leaving. He studied her for a moment. "You're seeing Teddy tonight?"

"Yes. We're going to see a movie."

He considered that. "Where did he take you for lunch?"

"Central Park."

He looked surprised. "Picnic?"

"Yes."

"And what movie are you going to see?"

"What's with the twenty questions, Goren?"

He remained silent, waiting for her answer. He was good at that. She sighed. "I don't know. He's letting me choose and I haven't decided yet."

Slowly he nodded his head in approval. "I want to meet him."

"Let me prepare him."

A look of amusement spread across his tired face. "Prepare him? For what?"

"For you and that damn, intimidating 'big brother' act. Do you know how many guys you've scared off? I really like this one, Bobby."

"I won't scare him off, Eames. So far he's doing everything right."

"God, I can't wait to see what you do if he ever messes up."

"Just tell him not to and we won't have to worry about it."

She laughed. "For the record...I'll hurt you if you screw this up for me."

He smiled, but she could tell he was exhausted. "I won't screw it up. I promise...as long as he treats you right."

She shook her head. Long ago, she had resigned herself to being under the protection of her gorilla of a partner. "I'll send Barb in." She leaned over and softly kissed his cheek. "Good night, Bobby."

He squeezed her hand. "Good night, Eames."

Eames stopped at the nurses' station, where Barb was writing in a chart in front of her. "Barb?"

The nurse looked up. "Heading out for the night?"

"Yes. My date is probably waiting for me. He knew I was coming here to see Bobby, so he'll wait. I told Bobby I'd send you in. He's exhausted."

She nodded. "I'm sure he is; he's been up most of the day."

"How has he been sleeping?"

"On his own, not so well. So Dr. Harper ordered sedation at night. With that, he sleeps fine. Don't worry, Alex. I'll take care of him."

"I know you will. Good night, Barb. See you tomorrow."

Barb nodded. "Have a good time tonight."

A few minutes later, she headed to his room to help him get ready for the night before she went off duty.


	8. Trust Me

**A/N: This chapter exists because of a suggestion from caseyswife, who wanted to see her get him ready for the night :-)**

* * *

She was surprised when she went into his room and found him standing by the window, looking out over the city. She watched him for a moment, but he did not react to her and that made her wonder what he was thinking, although she could guess. She laid her clipboard on the tray and fixed up his bed. Then she removed several sealed packets from her pocket, as she did several times a day. He heard the paper and cellophane rattle and turned. She motioned him closer and he obliged, holding his hand out for the medicine cup she withdrew from her pocket. He'd tried refusing the medicine, and she'd read him the riot act. He hadn't tried that again. 

He watched her as she read each packet and checked it off on the clipboard. Tearing open each one in turn, she dumped the contents into the medicine cup he held. "Antibiotics...pain medicine...sedative..."

He sighed and looked at the pills in the cup. She frowned. "Is something wrong?"

He shook his head and poured himself a cup of water. Dumping the medicine in his mouth, he washed it down with the water. She rested a hand on his arm, concerned by his silence. "Bobby?"

He looked toward her and slowly shook his head. "I, uh, I want to go home," he said.

"I know you do."

"I'm serious, Barb. I am not going to stay here."

She sighed. "Do we have to go through this again?"

"I don't need to be here."

"Dr. Harper disagrees. He has treated more cops shot in the line of duty than any doctor in the city. He knows what he's doing and he won't consent to releasing you until he feels you're ready."

Goren's eyes narrowed. "Then I'll sign myself out."

"That really is not a good idea."

"So tell me what I do here all day that I can't do at home?"

She was quiet for a moment. "It's not about what you can or can't do. It's about watching you for complications that you are still at risk for. It's about regaining more of your strength, more of your stamina..."

"I can do that at home!"

"Why do we have to go through this every time?" she asked gently.

"You look forward to the challenge," he answered, letting a smile touch his mouth as she managed to chase away some of his irritation.

"Says you. Do you understand that I'm just looking out for you?"

He sighed softly. "If you were really looking out for me, you'd do something to get me sent home."

That wasn't fair, but she decided it would only cause problems if she made an issue of it. He was trying to rile her, and she was not going to let him get away with it. "Acting like a disobedient schoolboy is _not_ going to get you sent home," she chided. "Dr. Harper is the one to decide that, and he thinks you need to stay here. Plan on another two weeks."

"No way. I'll be home by the end of the week."

"Don't do that to me."

That caught him off guard. To _her_? She saw his confusion and decided to run with it. "Do you have any idea what it would do to me if something happened to you, especially if it happened because of a failure of mine to watch out for you? You are in my care, Bobby. Whatever happens to you is my fault."

"Is that all I am...a...a patient?"

She studied his face, not certain what to make of his confusion or his tone. She wasn't sure what he was looking for, and the wrong answer could damage the tender shoots of the relationship they were starting to cultivate. "Do you have any idea how complicated that question is?"

He walked to the bed, sat down, and challenged, "Tell me."

She wasn't certain exactly what the tone in his voice meant, but she had to ease herself into the chair he had vacated. Was her attraction to him that strong, that his tone of voice could make her knees weak... or had it been that long a day to exhaust her so? She sighed softly. "You _are_ more than just a patient to me...but that's the reality of our relationship at the moment. I have to concern myself with your recovery first and foremost, or you won't recover...and then neither would I."

He stared at her in silence, not certain what she meant and totally unwilling to read anything into it, for fear he would be wrong. He opened his mouth to say something, but no words would come and he closed it again. In silence, he searched for a reply, but found none...so he continued with his argument. "I...I...it's my life," he protested, but some of the fight had slipped away. He blamed that on the sedative she had given him, ignoring the fact that not enough time had passed for it to be taking effect just yet. "I...am responsible for my own decisions...and I'm fully able to make them on my own."

"I never said you couldn't, but this is different. You are recovering from an injury that was very nearly fatal. You have to trust us to know what's best for you." He snorted impatiently and she reached forward to touch his knee. "Trust _me_, then."

The look on his face changed entirely as his eyes shifted to where her fingers touched his leg. When her hand moved away, he wondered at the warmth that departed with it. With an effort, he forced his brain to work again. "I-I do trust you."

"Then believe me when I say you still need to be here."

He looked her directly in the eye and said, "Tell me why. You keep saying I'm doing well until I say I want to go home. Then I'm suddenly not doing so well any more."

She held his eyes, not flinching under his scrutiny. This man could break suspects with his intensity and intelligence, but she would not be intimidated. "It's not that you aren't doing well. The main problem is that you live alone. If there was someone home with you to watch out for you, it would be a different story. Then I would stand a chance of convincing Dr. Harper to release you sooner than he otherwise would."

"Eames will come over after work to check on me. I'll be fine."

She shook her head slowly. "That's not good enough. That's a small part of the day, Bobby, and it leaves open too much time for you to find yourself in serious trouble with no one to help you."

He growled in frustration and ran his hand over his hair. Then she started to laugh. "Did you just _growl_ at me?"

"Uh, I..." A small smile touched the corner of his mouth. "I'm sorry. I just...I don't want to be here."

She tried not to take it personally. "Do you think I don't understand that? I know you're feeling better, but believe me...you are _not_ well enough. In a couple of weeks..."

"No!"

He waved a hand in the air, pushed away from the bed and began pacing. She got up and grabbed his arm, and he stopped. He was getting agitated and he needed to calm down. "I'll see what I can do, all right? I can't promise anything, but I'll see...if you settle down."

She gently steered him back toward the bed. He looked at her hand on his arm and then shifted his eyes to her face. "I'll recover faster in my own home," he said softly. "And I'll sleep better in my own bed."

"I know what you're talking about, but I need you to understand our point of view."

She waited while he sat on the bed and leaned back against the pillows. Gently, she pulled the sheet and blanket from the foot of the bed and handed it to him. He leaned his head back and looked toward the ceiling, until he felt the gentle touch that heated his skin and drew his attention to eyes the color of sapphire. "I need to recover at home, not here," he muttered.

"Stubborn," she accused gently.

Now he could blame the sedative for how he felt, but he didn't, not fully. "Remember that. I have the right to go home whenever I want, whether Dr. Harper approves or not."

"And what about me?"

He studied her face in silence. _God, she's beautiful..._ He chased away the thought with a groan he thought he'd fully suppressed. When she frowned in concern, he realized he hadn't been successful. He touched her hand, gently wrapping his fingers around it and stroking a gentle circle in her palm with his thumb. "I'm still here, Barb. And that's because of you."

With a reluctance he was careful to hide, he released her hand and turned onto his injured side. He gave in to the overwhelming need to sleep and closed his eyes.

She watched him for a long moment as his breathing deepened and he relaxed. _...that's because of you._ She felt reassured by that, and she knew that's what he'd meant, to reassure her. She also understood that if it wasn't for her, he would have already signed himself out, probably the day she'd removed his IV. Of course, he would probably have found himself back in intensive care, but he didn't think about that. Alex told her he could be a stubborn ass that way, and she smiled. Leaning down, she softly kissed him, lingering a little because he was asleep. She tucked the blanket around his chest, raised the side rail, and, grabbing her clipboard, shut off the lights and left the room.


	9. A Convincing Argument

Her day started off badly. There had been a power outage during the night, the battery backup in her alarm clock failed, and the hot water was out, so she suffered through a cold shower. She'd had no time for breakfast and she missed her train, which made her almost an hour late for work.

She hung up her jacket and went out to the nurses' station. Peggy, one of her co-workers, smiled at her. "I took care of Mrs. Angelino and Mrs. Perkins for you. They're all set until lunchtime."

"Thanks, Peggy. What about Bobby?" Peggy sighed and Barb slowly shook her head. "What did he do?"

"Oh, it's not what he did...not really. I like him, Barb. He's sweet and he has a charming smile. But he refused to take his medicine and I couldn't hear any air movement in his left lung."

"He wouldn't take a deep breath for you, would he?"

"No. He was nice about it, but he still refused, so I've left him for you to deal with." She laughed. "I've never had a patient refuse to cooperate with such...charm."

Barb laughed, too. "He's so bull-headed. All right, Peggy. Where's his medicine?"

"On the counter in the med room."

"Thank you."

She retrieved the medicine and headed to his room.

* * *

He looked up from the newspaper when she came into the room. His face softened and that took some of the edge off her irritation. "Dammit, Bobby," she said quietly. 

"I assumed you had the day off," he said.

"So you decided to be difficult for Peggy?"

"I was nice to her."

She held up the medicine cup. "You need to take this."

"Why? I took the antibiotics before Cheryl went off duty."

"That's good, but if you don't take this pain medicine by lunchtime you're going to need an injection."

"That was last week. I feel better..."

"Don't argue with me. I can see the pain in you every time I bring your next dose, and I can see it in you now. There is no reason for you to suffer like this."

"I'm fine."

"Okay, then, let's get you up for the day."

"I, uh, I still need to eat."

"You can sit in the chair and eat."

"I'm fine right here."

She set the cup beside his breakfast tray with an affectionate smile and a shake of her head. "Take the medicine, and I'll get you up in an hour." When he still hesitated, she leaned on the side rail and said softly, "I know what you're doing and it won't work."

"Oh? What am I doing?"

"You think that by refusing to take your pain medicine, you'll convince Dr. Harper to let you go home. You should know better by now. He hasn't even started talking about letting you go."

He frowned. "I thought you were going to talk to him."

"I told you I would see what I can do. I promised nothing. And I haven't been able to talk to him because he hasn't been here all week."

"I noticed."

She sensed his annoyance, and changed the subject, which was a favorite habit of his. "Take your medicine and let me listen to those lungs."

"Peggy already did."

"Yes, she told me. And she said there's no air movement in your injured lung. That's not good, Bobby. Now I'm going to listen and you are going to cooperate and take a deep breath."

"But..."

"Bobby, I've had a really bad morning. Please don't make it worse."

He watched her as she placed the stethoscope against his side and listened. When she moved it to another position, her fingers brushed over his skin and he closed his eyes. "Deep breath," she said softly.

He didn't give her any trouble, but his pain flared, as he expected it to, and he couldn't stop the round of coughing that followed, as it always did. She ignored his grumbling and concentrated on hearing the air rush in and out of his lung. "Much better. Have I ever told you you're a stubborn ass?"

He nodded. "Many times."

"Consider yourself told again."

He laughed, then coughed again and braced his arm over his side. She rattled the pills in the medicine cup. "Take them."

He didn't argue any more.

* * *

Raymond Harper was no pushover. He knew how to handle difficult patients, especially cops. In the twenty-seven years he had been practicing in New York City's hospitals, he had treated thousands of men and women injured in the line of duty. He was an excellent doctor and very good at making people used to being in control do what he demanded of them. 

Now he leaned back in his chair in his office at St. Vincent's, facing a different kind of adversary, if he could call her that. Robert Goren had an advocate. Barb Weaver was one of his best nurses, and one of his favorites. He knew well that Goren wanted to go home, but there was no way in hell he was going to let that man go home alone at this point in his recovery. He was facing at least two more weeks in the hospital, maybe more if he continued to refuse to work that injured lung. Having treated him several times before, he was very familiar with this cop, and so was Barb. He did _not_ like being told what to do.

Harper tented his fingers in front of him and studied Barb. She showed no signs of nervousness, nothing that would raise any flags with him. "Why this one, Barb? Of all the patients we see, why are you fighting for this one? He lives alone; you know the risks of sending him home too early. Are you willing to take that kind of chance with his life? He can't be that big a pain in the ass."

Barb laughed. "No, he's not." She was quiet for a moment. "Ray, suppose I agree to stay with him and continue his nursing care at home? Then he won't be alone and we won't have to worry about his care."

He studied her for a moment, surprised. The word he got from the other nurses was that Bobby was difficult. The nurses he did not intimidate, he frustrated the hell out of. Was he that different with Barb? "Why would you do that?"

"Because if I don't, he's going to sign himself out. I'm telling you, he will not stay in the hospital. Unless you plan to lock him in for the next few weeks, he is going to leave."

"We have lots of patients sign themselves out AMA. Again I ask, what makes this one any different?"

"You can't tell me you don't care what happens to him."

"That has nothing to do with anything. I'm not going to let him walk out of the hospital too soon. You have orders to sedate him, if necessary."

"But sedation will further delay his recovery. And I don't want to see any harm come to him because he's being an idiot."

"So convince him to stay."

"He's still here, isn't he? I have threatened to sedate him, but I hate fighting with him every day. I don't know how much longer I'll be able to get him to stay put. I took his street clothes away from him yesterday, and that really pissed him off, but he'll just have someone bring him more clothes."

Harper laughed. "You're a gem, Barb." His brow furrowed. "I thought his clothes were cut off in the ER."

"One of his friends brought him a set of clean clothes. I told you he's determined to leave."

He sighed. "If I consent to letting him go, you'll stay with him and make sure he does everything we'd be forcing him to do here? He'll eat right, do his breathing exercises, rest appropriately, and you'll monitor his vitals and be ready in case that lung decides to take a vacation?"

"Of course. He'll recover more quickly in his own environment, and I'll make certain he behaves. We can't watch him every second. If he really wants to leave--which he does--then he will."

"I want you to call in a report to me twice a day."

"That's fine."

"If I recall, you've done this before...but your patients were considerably younger."

"Yes, they were immune-compromised children at risk during outbreaks. Which brings up another argument in favor of doing this. We have three really nasty respiratory bugs on med-surg that put Bobby at risk."

Harper nodded slowly. "You have a good point there. That lung wouldn't take well to any pathogen." He leaned back in his chair and let the case run through his mind. "All right, Barb. I'll let you do this. But make certain he understands all the risks. Let him know that his lung is at risk for spontaneous collapse, and that I will not hesitate to readmit him if I feel it necessary. And, yes, I will resort to sedation and restraints if I have to. Explain what that will do to his recovery."

Barb nodded as she stood up. "Thank you, Ray. I appreciate this."

"Good luck with him."

"Thanks. I'll need it."

He laughed. "I'll write the orders and drop them off at the station. Is he still on oxygen?"

"Only occasionally, when he sleeps."

"Take a tank and a pulse-ox from the store room and use them as he needs them. I'll sign the authorization."

"Okay, I'll do that."

"I'll write his discharge orders and you're free to take him home after that."

"Thank you, Ray."

Harper watched her leave and he smiled to himself. Barb was every inch a professional. He had no doubt at all that Bobby would thrive under her care. She would never allow anything to interfere with his recovery. But there was a part of him, a small romantic corner in his heart, that hoped they would work out whatever it was between them that caused the tension he had seen in both. He had a place in his heart for her, and he wanted her to be happy. That small corner of his heart told him that just maybe, Bobby Goren could be the man who would bring her the happiness that had been eluding her...and maybe Barb would be the one to bring peace to his tortured soul.


	10. Barb's Offer

Barb waited until Harper had all the paperwork signed before she approached Bobby with her deal. It was a simple decision, if he really wanted to go home, which she knew he did. When she brought him his late afternoon medicine, she sat down near his chair and waited for him to take it. He hadn't given her any more trouble about taking his medicine, and she knew it was because he was hurting...and the pain made him irritable.

"You need to eat your dinner."

"I'm not hungry."

"You will be once the pain subsides."

"You don't know that," he groused.

"Yes, I do." He looked away and she sighed, a gentle sound that soothed him a little bit. "Listen to me, Bobby. I have a proposition for you, if you're willing to take it."

He looked back at her, interested but suspicious. "What kind of proposition?"

"Dr. Harper has been tied up at NYU with two critically ill children. Today was the first day he was here in his office in almost a week and a half. I just spent the better part of an hour talking to him about letting you go home, and I finally got him to agree, but only under certain conditions."

His suspicion increased. "What conditions?"

"He has a couple of issues that I needed to reassure him about before he would agree. The biggest one is that he doesn't want you being home alone. He'll agree to an early discharge, but _only_ if you have a nurse at home with you."

"A nurse? I don't need a damn baby sitter." He shook his head. "No. Eames can come by after work to check on me, and she'll stay for awhile. That's good enough."

His obstinacy frustrated her, but she held her ground. "Not for Dr. Harper, and it's his opinion that counts."

"Then I'll just sign myself out. I have that right. I don't need anyone watching over me."

She ignored his threat. "Suppose it was someone you trust?"

"I trust my partner. If I get into any kind of trouble, I can call her and she'll drop whatever it is she's doing. If I need her, she'll be there. She always is."

He recognized the frustration in her sigh, and he knew he was being difficult, but he wanted to go home and he wasn't happy with the doctor trying to put conditions on his release. With every passing day, he was getting more and more agitated which increased his irritability. He wished he felt better, and he wished it didn't hurt to breathe, but he felt that he would recover faster, with less risk of additional complications, if he could recuperate at home, where he felt comfortable and could relax. His inability to convince the doctor that he was making sense just fueled his frustration and he knew he had been taking that out on his nurses, particularly Barb, who had not taken a day off since he'd transferred to her unit and who dealt with his moods like she dealt with everything, with grace and patience.

"I know you put a lot of trust in Alex," Barb said reasonably. "And justifiably so. But she isn't going to be there with you all the time. You need someone closer than a phone call away." She paused. "Look at it this way, Bobby: you have two options. You can stay here for a few more weeks and keep intimidating my nurses and frustrating me or you can have one nurse stay with you at home until you've recovered enough to satisfy Dr. Harper that you're no longer at risk for the complications that concern him."

"Or I can just sign myself out and be done with it."

She walked to the chair and squatted beside it, looking up into his eyes and resting her hand on his arm with a heavy sigh. "Would you listen to me for a minute?"

He huffed in frustrated annoyance and waved his other hand in an impatient gesture. "I'm getting tired of talking, Barb."

She grabbed his hand and held it still, leaning in closer. His eyes shifted from her face to her hand, lingering for a moment in between before returning to her face. "Then just _listen_. Being at home alone involves more than just sitting on the couch waiting for Alex to come in and check on you. You still have to prepare your meals, take care of yourself, take your medicine, do your breathing exercises, not to mention routine household chores like laundry and dishes... There's a lot more involved that you are not thinking about. That's why Dr. Harper wants a nurse in place to care for you." She gently stroked the back of his hand and lowered her voice. "Bobby, he is not going to let you leave AMA...and neither will I. He has already ordered sedation if you refuse to cooperate. Do I have to tell you how much that will delay your recovery?"

His anger flared. "You won't _let_ me..."

Her fingers touched his lips and silenced his outburst. "Exactly," she said softly. "I won't let you do anything that will cause you harm."

"But you'll sedate me and delay my recovery?"

"To keep from having to bury you? In a heartbeat."

"What do you mean?"

"Your obstinacy will kill you, you idiot. You seem to prefer overlooking the risks of leaving AMA."

He frowned. "I know the risks."

"Then stop acting stupid; I know better. I am offering you an acceptable alternative."

"Acceptable to who?"

She shook her head. "If you would just listen to me for two minutes...Normally, an agency takes care of assigning home nurses and you just deal with whoever they send out. I know how unsettling that would be for you..."

He was shaking his head, but he wouldn't look at her. "I don't like this at all. I don't need a damn nurse."

She closed her eyes, searching for patience. Her hand tightened on his. "Bobby, tell me what would happen if your lung collapsed again and you didn't have a chance to call Alex. She has been very supportive of your desire to go home. If anything happened to you because you were there alone..."

He turned to look at her with a violent snap of his head, eyes flashing. "_Don't_ use my partner against me," he said in a low, dangerous voice.

She'd heard that tone before and it didn't phase her. Her own anger flared to meet his and she glared right back at him. "I'll use anything I can to make you see reason." She leaned back on her heels and released his hand. Again he looked away, unsettled by the disappointment that flared in him from her withdrawal. She let out another frustrated huff. "Please believe me when I say that I do want to see you get out of here as soon as you can. If there was someone home with you, we could discharge you in the near future, provided they could handle you. The major problem is that you live alone."

"And you think any nurse they send to babysit can do the job?"

"No, I don't. I don't even want to think about how many nurses we'd go through. That's why I talked Dr. Harper out of dealing with a home nursing agency."

"I, uh, I don't understand."

"You need someone to take care of you who is not intimidated by you." She hesitated, then offered, "Suppose I agreed to stay with you as your nurse?"

He stared at her in silence and blinked. "You? Why would you do that?"

"Because if I don't, one of two things will happen. Either you're going to leave AMA and possibly get yourself into trouble, or we're going to have to sedate you to keep you here. Guess which one it's going to be? Believe me, this is your best alternative. I will make sure you are properly cared for, and I'll be there if anything happens. Dr. Harper knows me. He knows I'll make you follow his orders, and he knows that you will continue to recover."

"My own medical Nazi..." he muttered.

His tone was annoyed, but she saw a glimmer of teasing in his eyes, and she smiled. "You've got that right. But you'll be in your own home and you'll sleep in your own bed."

"I have a one bedroom apartment."

"You'd be surprised at how comfortable I can make myself on a couch...and I am not a heavy sleeper. Just leave your bedroom door open and we'll manage just fine. Look, Bobby, you can take the offer or leave it. It's the only concession the doctor is going to make."

"So that's it? There's no other choice?"

"Nope. That's it. For the next few weeks it's either me or these four walls."

He had to admit, she was more interesting to look at than the blank walls that surrounded them. Given a choice, he would much rather watch her. And if he started talking to the walls, they'd probably panic. He sighed heavily, stifling a groan that was triggered by the pain that flared in his chest, but he did not answer. "This is ridiculous," he finally muttered, still angry.

She understood how much he hated being told what he could or could not do, and putting these conditions on his release really made him angry, but his reluctance hurt her, though she tried to hide it from him. Knowing how much he wanted to go home, she could find no reason for his resistance to the idea. "Look, I promise I won't interfere with your life. I will just be there to make sure you continue to heal well. I'll take care of you and make sure you don't do anything stupid, and then I'll be gone."

He frowned. _Gone?_ When she promised not to interfere with his life, his irritation flared. Just by being there, telling him what to do, she would be interfering. But before he could snap at her, she said she'd be gone, and he swallowed a moment of panic. He knew what it was like, having her there and then having her gone, and he'd hated it. "I, uh, I didn't mean it like that. I, um, I..."

Words resolutely fled from his mind and he had no clue how to say what he had meant. He was angry at Harper for putting any conditions on his right to leave the hospital, not at Barb for being willing to subject herself to him for a few more weeks so that he could go home. After what had happened between them, how could he tell her that he _wanted_ her in his life? But then, how could he explain the distance he had put between them? There was no way he could possibly explain it and not come off sounding like a total ass. He had always tried to protect himself from pain at the hands of others, building walls around his heart that were nearly impossible to breach. As it was, his mother and his partner were the only ones in his life capable of getting past those walls...unless he counted Barb. She had walked away from him, and that had hurt him deeply. Now, here he was, approaching a point where he no longer cared about that...he was willing to risk being hurt again, something he had never done before, because he still...God help him, he was still in love with her and he couldn't get away from that. But he was at a loss for words to explain what he meant and how he felt... "Just...never mind...uh, what about Marcus?"

"Don't worry about him. My neighbor will take care of Marcus, and he likes her."

His mind was swimming. Why the hell would she do this? Unless... all it was to her was another job. He had no indication that he meant anything more to her than any other patient did. Just another job... "Before I agree to this, I want you to answer my first question."

"What question is that?"

"Why would you do this?"

"I did answer you. I don't want you signing yourself out and possibly getting into serious trouble, and I certainly don't want to have to sedate you for the next few weeks."

"That isn't what I meant. I don't want a medical reason. I want to know your motivation."

She crossed her arms over her chest, and he read that as subconscious defensiveness. She meant it to convey her annoyance. "Is it so hard for you to believe that I care about you?"

It was...and it wasn't. But he had no idea how to answer that question, and that added to his irritation. Raising his hands, he snapped, "What proof of that do I have?"

She knew what he was doing, trying to distance himself some more, but it still hurt. "Fine. I don't trust anyone else to take care of you. I just want to see you recover completely so you can get back to your life and I can get back to mine. Is that the answer you wanted, Bobby?"

It wasn't, and he was caught offguard by the power of his response to it. "Barb..."

She shook her head, no longer able to hide the fact that he'd hurt her. "Just forget it, Bobby. So what will it be: yes or no?"

"I'm sorry, Barb," he said softly. "I...I didn't mean it like that. I...I just..."

"Just answer me, okay? What do you want me to do?"

What a loaded question _that_ was... "I-I'll accept your offer," he said softly. "And I am sorry."

She nodded, but he wasn't sure if she accepted his apology. "I'll go and get your clothes."

She started to stand, but he grabbed her arm. With a wince, he leaned closer to her. "I mean it."

"Forget it." She stood up and gently pulled her arm from his grasp. Letting her fingertips lightly graze his cheek, she turned and left the room.

He swore to himself. Why was he being an ass to her? Why? Because he was afraid. Like his partner, Barb wasn't much more than a wisp of a woman, but she was a mountain of attitude and she was not afraid to stand up to him. Crossing her was the wrong thing to do, he knew from experience. If he went through with this, she would sleep on his couch and make certain he rested, ate well, did his respiratory exercises—_dammit_—and he would recover completely. Whatever his choice, Barb would be close by, at least for a while, but being alone with her, in his apartment...he struggled with his reaction. On one hand, it would be nice to not be alone for a change, at least for a little while. But on the other hand...he closed his eyes. That was where his fear came in. He was afraid of being hurt again...and yet...he did not understand his willingness to open himself up to that pain again. In his mind's eye, he could see her, sitting across from him that last night he saw her, smiling and looking...like she did. Until that damn phone call, everything was fine. A small smile touched his lips as he recalled her laughter and the way her eyes lit up when she looked at him. He could see a remnant of that light when she smiled at him, and he thought that maybe, just maybe, she was willing to take the same risk he was...and he swore he was going to put that light back in her eyes...


	11. Home Again

Barb returned to the room with a stack of neatly folded clothes, which she set on the bed. "Here are your clothes, Bobby. I need to give report on my other two patients to Peggy and then I'll get all the paperwork in order and run down to the pharmacy to fill your prescriptions. I need to run home and get my car, and we should be ready to leave in a couple of hours. If you need anything while I'm taking care of your discharge, Peggy will help you. "

He nodded, afraid to say anything more. She was already pissed at him...he didn't want to make it worse. She watched him for a moment before she finally sighed deeply. "It's all right, Bobby, okay? I know you didn't mean anything. We'll get everything straightened out. Take your time getting dressed and just chill out until I come back in to get you."

She left before he could answer her, and he was reassured only by her comment about straightening everything out. That gave him some hope that his irritability had not caused any lasting damage to their relationship.

When Barb returned to the room, he was almost dressed. He grinned sheepishly. "You said to take my time."

She laughed and he relaxed. She didn't miss the grimace of pain as he manuvered his right arm into its sleeve and pulled it up to his shouder. She grabbed the shirt behind his back and placed it into his other hand. "I'm sorry I was short with you before," she said. "Like I told you this morning, I had a bad day, and maybe I just took what you said wrong."

After pulling his shirt on, he buttoned it and then smiled again, briefly. "I understand. I've had a pretty bad month, myself."

Again she laughed. "Come on, cowboy. Let's blow this chicken stand."

"I'm with you, baby," he teased lightly, starting to feel reassured again. Maybe this would work out well after all...

* * *

She drove a dark blue Tercel. He eased himself into the passenger seat with a soft groan. He was already feeling drained, and all they'd done was go to the car. He decided then and there that he was in trouble. Barb had been right—he really was in no condition to take care of himself without help. 

She knew the general neighborhood he lived in, if not the exact building. She'd never quite made it that far, going back to his place. He dozed lightly, and she woke him as they got closer to their destination. "You're going to have to let me know where to go."

"Hm? Oh, yeah..." He sat up and scrubbed his face. "Uh, we might want to make one stop on the way."

"Where?"

"Grocery store. I don't think my milk is still gonna be good after three weeks...and I don't have much in the way of groceries. Uh, the last time I stopped at the store was...the weekend before I got shot. I made dinner for Eames."

She smiled. "Okay, we'll make a quick stop. Just tell me where."

When they finished in the store, which really wiped him out, and returned to the car, he pulled out his phone and called his partner. She answered on the third ring. _Bobby?_

"Hey."

_They gave you back your phone?_

"Yeah, well, I'm not in the hospital any more."

Silence.

"Eames?"

_Bobby, what the hell did you do?_

"Uh, I'm on my way home."

_I swear, Goren, I'm going to kick your ass to who wouldn't have it. What the hell are you thinking?_

"I-it's not what you think. Barb's with me. The doctor okayed it."

_What?_ He could tell she was trying to figure out how many new screws he had loose. _Let me talk to her._

He handed the phone to Barb. "Hello, Alex."

_Is this legit, Barb? He didn't take off?_

"It's legit. I'll explain when I see you."

_Is he okay? He sounds...rough._

"He's tired, but he's okay. Don't worry about him."

She sighed. _Tell him I'll come by before 11._

"I'll tell him. See you later."

She closed the phone and handed it back to him. "She's going to drop by before 11."

He nodded. "She, uh, she has a date...with Teddy...uh, make a left at the next corner."

She followed his directions and ten minutes later she was parking the car. She grabbed the groceries from the back seat, objecting when he took a bag from her, but finally letting him do it. She knew he wanted to feel useful, and she gave him the lighter of the two bags.

When they got to the apartment door, he pulled his keys from his pocket, selected the door key and reached it toward the lock. The keys slid through his fingers and hit the floor. Barb retrieved them and he pointed out the door key, annoyed and frustrated. She grabbed the grocery bag before it also slid from his grasp. With a gentle smile, she said, "Good thing I didn't let you carry the eggs."

She was reassured by his smile as she set the bag down and unlocked the door. "Go sit down, Bobby," she said gently as she lifted the bag from the hallway floor and carried them both into the apartment. He didn't argue. Closing the door, he watched her cross the living room to the kitchen as he headed to the couch, dropping onto it with a soft moan. The room spun around him and he took too deep a breath, eliciting another, deeper moan from him. He leaned back and let his eyes close. When he felt her hand come to rest on his forehead, he forced his eyes open, not certain if he'd drifted off or not. She said, "I'm going to bring the rest of my things from the car. I want you to stay put."

"I can help..."

"I know you can, but I don't want you to. I have one suitcase, a bag of supplies and an oxygen tank. I can manage."

Taking stock of how he was feeling, he just nodded and let his eyes slide closed again. He was exhausted, but worse than that was the renewed pain. He'd done more in the last two hours than he had since the shooting, and his entire body was rebelling on him. The dull ache and constant throb he had started to become accustomed to had once again become the raging fire across his chest that he remembered from when he was still in intensive care. He struggled to bring it under control, but he wasn't having much success. His head was still spinning and he was drifting in and out as he fought against his fatigue.

He didn't hear her leave or return, and he had no idea how much time had passed before he felt a sharp sting in his arm. His eyes opened as she withdrew the needle. She was sitting on her knees beside him, gently rubbing the injection site with an alcohol pad. "That will help," she said softly.

And it did. Slowly the pain retreated to an almost manageable level. "Thanks," he said quietly, trying hard to suppress his annoyance. This wasn't her fault. He had asked for this, and he deserved everything that came of it.

She gently brushed his hair back from his forehead, a gesture of affection that was familiar and comforting. "Why don't you go and lay down? I'll get you something to drink."

He shook his head as he noticed the time. "Eames will be here soon."

"I'll send her in to see you when she gets here."

His eyes widened. "Into my bedroom?"

She looked confused. "Since that's where you'll be...Why? Is that a problem?"

He misinterpreted her suggestion as an inference of overfamiliarity, and that brought to mind the rumor that always set him on edge. He took another deep breath, flaring the pain in his chest, but his anger made the pain easier to manage. "I am _not_ sleeping with my partner, Barb," he said angrily.

She looked surprised, but she didn't respond immediately. Thinking about how to respond to him in a way that would calm him and not further agitate him, she absently got up from the couch and crossed the room to where she'd set a large bag on the floor near the door. Pulling out a red sharps container, she dropped the syringe and needle into it and then set it back in the bag. He frowned, concerned that she was withdrawing from him. Too exhausted to maintain his anger, he simply watched her and let his anger fade. The concern remained, however, and he thought about explaining, but his mind wasn't cooperating with him at the moment.

She stood and turned to face him again. "I didn't mean to upset you," she said softly. "I wasn't inferring anything more than the familiarity of your friendship. I wasn't thinking that you were sleeping with her, and I wasn't planning to send her back to see you for a quickie. Even if you were sleeping with her, you aren't ready for that yet. That's something I would _not_ want to explain to Dr. Harper as the reason you had to be readmitted."

That made him laugh, which elicited another groan when the pain flared, but it wasn't as bad now. "I'm sorry," he said. "That's been something we've been battling for most of our partnership, and it irritates me when people assume that the only reason we remain partners is because she's sleeping with me."

"That was not my assumption, Bobby. I have never thought that. Do you think I would have ever agreed to go out with you if I did? I don't play those games. But if you are that opposed to having her go down to your room, at the very least lay down here on the couch and try to rest."

He watched her return to the kitchen and he leaned back to lay down on the couch. He wasn't opposed to Eames being in his room; she'd been in there before. His objection was two-fold. First, he was overly sensitive to anything that might be construed as criticism of her, and assuming she stayed with him because of sex belittled her. It was always the first thing that popped into his mind and he couldn't help that. He shouldn't have thought that of Barb, but he was too tired to think clearly right now.

The second reason for his objection was Barb. He did not want her misunderstanding his close friendship with his partner. That had destroyed more than one relationship and he would do anything he felt he had to in order to salvage this one. But Barb had never seemed to have a problem with Eames. Maybe she did understand. Maybe it wasn't too late after all... The spinning in his head worsened and he closed his eyes. Maybe he still had a fighting chance...


	12. A Little Teasing

He didn't hear the door, but Barb did. She let Eames in with a smile. "Hi, Barb. How is he?"

"He's doing okay."

"So tell me, why is he out of the hospital? I thought he wasn't ready."

"That depends on what you mean by ready. If it means coming home alone with no one to take care of him, then no, he was nowhere near ready. But if it means coming home with someone to give him proper care, then maybe he's ready. He had a valid point that he wasn't doing anything there that he can't do here, and he'll recover better in his own environment. There are serious risks associated with both home and the hospital, and Dr. Harper and I decided this was the less risky of the two, given the nasty respiratory viruses at the hospital right now. Of course, if he'd left AMA, he wouldn't have gotten far. This way, though, he gets his way and Dr. Harper is satisfied about his care. Unfortunately, he's stuck with me for awhile."

"He complained about that?"

"No, but I don't think he's happy about it."

"Bobby will surprise you with how he feels about things. Never assume anything with him. As badly as he wanted to get out of the hospital, he really was nervous about being home alone. He knows he's still at risk; he's just stubborn...and he hates hospitals."

"Most people do."

"He has good reason."

Barb did not press for details; she accepted what Eames offered. "It's difficult for a man like him to be dependent on anyone."

How well Eames knew that. She remembered the early months of their partnership, when he had been expecting her to hit the road. He'd been difficult and unpredictable, and he had succeeded in intimidating her more than once...but she had never let him know that. When he pushed her away, she pushed back. When he got in her face, she refused to back off. When he challenged her, she rose to meet him. And she had earned his respect, his loyalty, his trust and his affection, none of which he gave readily. Barb, it seemed, had already earned the thing he guarded most fiercely: his trust.

Barb left the room and Eames sat down on the edge of the couch and rested her hand on his chest. He opened his eyes slowly and gave her a weary smile. "Hey."

"How do you feel?"

"I...have new respect for roadkill."

She laughed. "You look like you don't feel good."

"I don't. How was dinner?"

"It was good."

"Where did he take you?"

"A little Indian place off Fifth Avenue."

"Did he give you any grief about coming here afterwards?"

"Not at all."

He nodded his head in approval. "So far, so good, Eames."

She laughed. "I'm so glad you approve."

With difficulty, he sat up, allowing her to pull gently on his arm to help him, but not looking happy about it at all. He looked around the room. "Uh, where's Barb?"

"Miss her?"

"What? I...Eames..."

She laughed again at his flustered look. "She's in the kitchen."

He pushed himself up from the couch with a deep groan of pain. "Bobby..."

Waving her off, he headed for the kitchen. She got up and followed, anxious to see how he interacted with Barb in the quiet intimacy of his apartment. Barb looked up from the stove, where she was heating a pot of soup. "I thought it would be a good idea to give you something to eat. You didn't eat much of your dinner."

He shrugged and leaned heavily on the counter. She crossed the small kitchen to the refrigerator and reached up for the pill bottles she had put there when they got home. He tipped his head a little to the right and watched her. Barb didn't notice, but Eames did, and she smiled to herself. He was still interested, and she took that as a good sign. Barb dumped out a dose of medicine from each of three bottles and held them out to him. He took the antibiotics and the pain medicine but shook his head at the sedative. "I don't need it."

She didn't reply immediately. She knew he was exhausted, but the sedative had not been prescribed to help him sleep. It was to keep at bay the nightmares that disrupted his sleep. Perhaps tonight his fatigue combined with being back in his own bed would let him sleep deeply enough that he wouldn't dream. With a soft sigh, she nodded and returned the small pill to its bottle. Then she turned away from him to get him a glass of water. Eames shifted her position so she could see his face better; he never noticed and that made her smile, too.

Barb placed the glass of water in his hand. "It won't hurt you to eat."

He swallowed the medicine without protest and nodded. Barb shifted her gaze to meet Eames'. "Soup, Alex?"

"No thanks. I'm still full from dinner. If I eat any more, I'll explode." Without missing a beat, she held up a finger. "Not a word, Goren."

He laughed and then groaned, pressing his arm into his side. Barb touched his back. "Go sit down. I'll be right there."

"You're going to get out that damn stethoscope."

"You got it."

She gave him a gentle shove toward the dining area and he moved to the table. Eames looked at Barb, concerned. "He's all right," Barb reassured her. "It's been a long couple of hours."

"He seems to be struggling."

"He is, but he won't be for long. Trust me, Alex. I'll take good care of him."

Eames smiled. "I know you will."

"Go talk to him. Get his mind off how badly he feels and I'll be right there."

Eames nodded, knowing talk of work would distract him, but if Barb was looking for a more complete distraction, Eames realized, she need not look any further than herself. She sat across from her partner. "I suggest you listen to her and do what she tells you so you can get back to work. I haven't choked Dubek yet, but I can see that in his future if I'm stuck with him for much longer."

He smiled. "You'll be fine, Eames."

"I know I will. It's Dubek's future that's uncertain."

"Some guys just don't know how to work with a female partner."

She smiled. "And some of you learn quickly. Remember the first time you thought I couldn't take care of myself?"

"Uh, yes." He rubbed his upper arm. "Sometimes I swear I can still feel the bruise."

"Wuss."

He laughed and it didn't hurt quite so badly. He turned when Barb set a bowl down in front of him. She smiled and then headed to her bag in the living room for her stethoscope and blood pressure monitor. He shifted his position in the chair so he could watch her and Eames kicked his leg. "Hey, what?"

"Behave yourself. At least until I leave."

"Behave...what?" Then it dawned on him. _Oh, shit..._

Eames knew the moment his blurry mind grasped what he'd been doing and she stifled a laugh. "It's okay, you know," she reassured him.

"No, it's not. What the hell is wrong with me?"

She leaned closer. "What's wrong with still being attracted to her?"

"It's over, Eames. It ended seven months ago."

"Bullshit. You still care about her. You can't hide it."

He averted his attention to the soup in front of him, and then he frowned, looking back toward Barb. "She remembered..." he said softly.

"What did she remember?"

"Tomato soup...After they took out my appendix, it was the only thing I'd eat for a couple of days. She remembered that I like it."

"Did you take her to Bernardo's?"

"Uh, yes. Why?"

"Best tomato soup in town, Bobby."

"Considering that was the only thing we got to eat before you and I got called out to a murder on the Upper East Side..."

Eames reached out to touch his hand. "You keep me informed, partner, and I promise you'll never get called out during dinner with her again."

"Eames..."

"I know what's important to you. You've covered for me plenty of times. Now it's my turn to take care of you."

He tipped his head a little in a gesture she knew very well, and she smiled. Barb joined them and set her instruments on the chair beside his. "Did you eat any yet?"

"Not yet."

"Good." She held out a thermometer and he raised an eyebrow at her. She smiled and slid the instrument into his mouth.

Eames leaned back in her seat and watched in silence as Barb wrapped the blood pressure cuff around his arm and took his blood pressure. While she concentrated on that, Eames watched her partner concentrate on her. She smiled warmly. Definitely there was something inside him that had never gone out, something that was coming back to him, in spite of his reluctance to see it return. He couldn't help it, and that was an even better sign to her that it was something deep.

Finally, Barb rested her stethoscope on his chest and listened intently to his heart and lungs. When she slid it over to the right side, she shook her head. "Lift up your shirt."

He did as she asked and she listened again. "Cough."

"Barb..."

She lightly poked his stomach. "Cough, Bobby."

Reluctantly, he did. Eames cringed at the rattle she heard in his chest, but Barb seemed pleased. "Much better."

She gathered up her things and moved them to the coffee table. Eames asked, "Is that...all right?"

Barb walked back to the table and sat down. "Is what all right?"

"All that junk in his chest."

"It's a normal healing response, yes. But he needs to keep it moving or it will breed a nasty infection."

Eames shifted her gaze to him. "Then you'd better cough, bonehead."

"It hurts to cough."

"It'll hurt even worse to get smacked upside the head, I promise. I am not going to be the only one Dubek annoys."

He gave up. There was no way in hell he could fight the two of them. Barb lightly touched his arm. "While you're eating and talking to Alex, I'm going to take a shower and wash off all these hospital germs."

He nodded, fighting hard to dispel the images that put into his head. But this time he noticed his partner's smirk. Once Barb was gone down the hall, he said, "What was that look for?"

"What look?"

"The one you gave me when she said she was going to shower."

"I didn't give you a look."

"Yes, you did."

She tried not to smile. "Okay, Bobby, tell me what went through your head when she said that."

She tried not to laugh at the flush that colored his face, but she wasn't successful. "I'm sorry," she managed when she brought her laughter under control. "Eat your soup, Bobby."

She successfully kept any other smart-ass remarks that popped into her head to herself. She just wanted to tease him, not send him into a meltdown. Somehow she thought that any comment she made about dessert would do just that.


	13. Nightmares

When she was ready to leave, Eames gave her partner a hug and spoke softly into his ear, "Relax. Let her take care of you, and don't be afraid to let her in. She's good for you, Bobby."

His arms tightened around her waist, but he didn't answer. She kissed his cheek and stepped away. Gently tapping his chin, she smiled. "Sorry for teasing you."

"No, you're not."

"Okay, I'm not."

He laughed, and there wasn't much of a pain flare. At least the medicine was working, so it was worth the upset stomach he had. When he coughed, though, it was a different story. Eames headed for the door. "Good night, Barb."

Barb smiled at her from where she was sitting on the couch, writing on a clipboard she'd taken from her bag. "Good night, Alex."

Eames hesitated at the door. "Oh, Bobby...Teddy wants to meet you, too. So when you're feeling up to it...let me know."

He nodded. "I will, Eames. Drive carefully."

She smiled and blew him a kiss, then she left. He eased himself down on the couch and leaned back. Barb finished writing and set the clipboard on the table in front of her. "How are you feeling?"

He slowly shook his head. "Not so good."

"You've done a lot today. Maybe too much. Sleep is the best thing for you."

"If you say so."

"Go on to bed. Call me if you need me."

He turned his head and looked at her. "I, uh, I appreciate this, Barb. I know I was an ass to you earlier, and I'm sorry. You didn't deserve that."

She nodded and reached over to touch his hand. Turning it, he closed his fingers around hers. Watching her hand where it lay against his, he caressed it with his thumb. With a soft sigh, he raised her hand and gently kissed it. "Good night, Barb."

She smiled softly. "Good night, Bobby."

He got up and she watched him head to the bedroom. Stopping at the hall closet, he opened the door, pulled out a pillow and several blankets. She got up and met him at the end of the hall. "Thank you."

He held her gaze for a moment, then gave her a smile and turned back down the hall.

Barb set up her bed on the couch and settled in. It would be no hardship for her to sleep on the large, soft couch. Wryly, she thought that his couch was more comfortable than her bed. It took no time for her to fall asleep.

* * *

Goren was no stranger to troubled dreams. When they graduated to terrifying, he knew he was in for a rough time. Those nightmares always followed traumatic events in his life, and getting shot certainly ranked up there in terms of trauma. As a child, the nightmares always came following his mother's psychotic breaks and the events that surrounded them. Now, they were associated with their most difficult cases and the horrors that accompanied them. Occasionally, his mother was still responsible for them. When his sleep was not disturbed by troubled dreams, he found that he rarely dreamed at all. Good dreams were uncommon for him. He couldn't remember the last one he'd had.

If he were honest with himself, he would prefer not to dream at all. Good dreams were as disturbing to him in their own way as nightmares. His nightmares recounted in many ways his troubled life, so there was an element of familiarity to them. The good dreams, however, served to show him elements of life that had never been his. And that made them more painful than the nightmares ever were.

As a teenager and a young adult, he had resisted the nightmares but that just got him into trouble. Over time, he'd come to realize that those dreams were an important coping mechanism for him, terrifying though they could be. Anything that didn't come through in his dreams, remained to haunt him during the day, and he found he'd rather deal with them at night, when the threat, though exaggerated, wasn't real. He found he could deal with his life better when his nightmares cleansed his subconscious.

The nightmares that began in the hospital had been delayed by the sedation they'd given him when they'd started. Now, he was in a position to refuse the medicine. Much as he hated the dreams, he knew that before the nightmares would begin to lessen in severity and go away, they would continue to get worse. He knew the pattern; this wasn't over yet. He wasn't terrified...

* * *

Deep in the night, something woke her. She wasn't certain exactly what, until she heard him moan. Thinking he was in pain, she prepared an injection for him, grabbed her stethoscope from the coffee table and headed down the hall to his room. Knocking softly on the open door, she called his name.

"C'mon in," he muttered, his breathing ragged.

She set the syringe on the nightstand and sat on the edge of the bed. He was leaning back against the headboard, trying to get his breathing under control. His hair was wet with sweat and his chest glistened in the light that filtered in from the streetlight. She slid her hand into his. "Are you hurting?"

He nodded. Now he was, but it wasn't the pain that had woken him. She gently caressed his hand. She had been told by the night nurses who'd cared for him in the hospital about his nightmares. Her fingers moved to stroke his arm as his breathing slowly settled and he coughed hard a few times. He groaned. She turned on the light and gave him the injection she'd brought in with her. He didn't notice. Still doubled over and holding his side, he was trying to keep a handle on his pain, but it wasn't working.

She shifted her position and laid a hand on his back, leaning over to talk softly to him while the medicine began to work. Slowly, he sat up and leaned against the headboard again. When she set the stethoscope against his chest, he slowly drew in a deep breath and then he closed his eyes. "It sounds good," she said softly.

He nodded. "I'm all right now."

"Do you want to talk about it?"

He shook his head. "There's nothing to talk about. It was just a bad dream."

She studied his face in the lamplight. "It will help if you..."

He shook his head and cut her off. "Uh, no...no, it won't."

"Bobby..."

He shook his head again. "Let it go, Barb."

He was beginning to get agitated again. She let her fingers trail up his arm and softly conceded, soothing him. It didn't take much coaxing to get him to lay back down on the bed. She covered him and ran her hand through his damp hair. Her gentle touch and soft voice soothed him and he drifted back to sleep. She knew that it would help him to discuss the dreams that troubled him, but he did not agree. She watched him sleep, and when she was satisfied that he was resting well, she turned off the light and left the room.

He slept peacefully through the rest of the night.

* * *

When he came out of the bedroom in the morning, she fixed breakfast and sat opposite him with her own plate. "How are you feeling?" she asked.

"Not so great. Did you sleep all right?"

"Fine."

"The couch is comfortable enough?"

She laughed softly. "Bobby, your couch is more comfortable than my bed is."

He smiled, but he seemed distracted. She watched him push his eggs around the plate. "It's going to take some time, you know."

He looked up. "What is?"

"For you to start feeling better. You have received a serious injury and recovery is going to take time."

"How much time?"

"If you rest well and eat right, a few weeks."

He sighed impatiently. "I want to go back to work," he complained.

"I know. But you have no choice in the matter. You have to be cleared by the department docs, and right now, there's not a doctor in the city who'll say you're fit for duty."

He dropped his fork onto his plate and leaned back, annoyed. She sighed. "Don't push it. Please. I don't want you doing yourself any harm. Just...take it easy. Finish eating."

He hesitated, but he did what she asked and finished his breakfast. Getting up from the table, he moved to the living room and dropped down onto the couch with a grunt. After cleaning up in the kitchen, she sat beside him, took his blood pressure and listened to his chest. "You sound good this morning."

"Great."

She sat back and studied him for a moment. "Would you please talk to me?"

"About what?"

"About what's troubling you."

"I just got shot, Barb. What the hell do you think is troubling me?"

"Your nightmares..."

"..are my business. No one else's. Let it go."

"But..."

He pushed himself off the couch and angrily snapped, "I said drop it, and I meant it."

He headed back to the bedroom and slammed the door. She let her breath out slowly and shook her head. Okay, so that didn't go so well. But she wasn't about to give up on him. She was determined to wear him down until he finally let her in, but she had to go slow, so she left him alone for the moment. It was not going to last for long, though. She was going to get him to talk to her.

* * *

That night, when Eames came by, Barb asked her if she would mind hanging out with him for a little while. She had some things she needed to do and she wanted to make a run to the grocery store. Eames had no problem with that, but after Barb left, Goren did.

Eames watched him pace restlessly back and forth across the living room. "What the hell is wrong with you?"

He looked at her. "If she doesn't come back, are you going to stay?"

"If she doesn't...what did you do?"

"Nothing."

"Don't give me that. If you didn't do anything, why would you be afraid she's not coming back?"

He waved a hand in the air and started to reply, but changed his mind. "Forget it, Eames."

"Bobby, give the woman a break. If she needs to get out for a bit, what's the problem?"

"She needs a break...from me."

"Maybe so. You've been an ass the past week or so. I would need a break from you, too."

"But you're not going anywhere."

"Neither is Barb. She's committed to this, for whatever reason, and she'll see it through. Now whether or not she sees it through without strangling you is another issue."

"I...I haven't been that bad."

"Really? Which alternate reality have you been visiting?"

He stopped pacing, confused. "What?"

She laughed. "Come over here and sit down before you hurt something."

"But I..."

"She'll be back, Bobby. I promise. Why are you so worried about it? Afraid you'll end up back in the hospital?"

He frowned as he lowered himself down onto the couch beside her. "Uh, actually, no, I wasn't. But thanks for bringing it up."

She shook her head. "You're an idiot." She switched on the television. "Settle down and watch..." She flipped to the Discovery Channel. "Vikings...oh, goody."

His face relaxed into a smile. "Go ahead and put on AMC. I've already seen this."

"Of course you have. What was I thinking?"

She changed the channel, watching out of the corner of her eye as he settled back into the corner of the couch, but he didn't relax. He was still worried, and she wasn't quite sure why. Maybe Barb would know.

* * *

The door opened and Eames got up off the couch to help her with the grocery bags. Barb looked to where Goren was sleeping on the couch, and she smiled. "Wore himself out, did he?"

"How'd you know?"

"That he was upset? He can't hide that. Did he tell you why he was upset?"

"He was worried that he'd driven you off."

"What?"

"He admits that he was being an ass and he was worried."

"He's always been difficult when he doesn't feel well. He's not up to a trip to the store, and I can't leave him here alone. And I decided to take a little time to stop by the gym." She smiled. "If I don't keep up my workouts, I'll pay dearly when I go back to them."

Eames laughed as she set a bag on the counter. After helping put the groceries away, she said, "I'd better be going. It's getting late. Would you tell him I said good night? I don't want to wake him."

Barb nodded. "Thanks for staying, Alex."

"It's not a problem. Good night."

While he was still asleep, she took a shower. When she came out of the bathroom, hair wet and dressed in sweats, she rummaged around in her bag and then turned to find him watching her. He quickly averted his eyes, and she smiled. "Well, I heard you were upset."

He shifted uncomfortably but didn't reply. Easing herself onto the couch beside him, she laid a hand on his arm. "You're not going to chase me away. I can't leave you here alone yet, and you aren't up for a trip to the store. And I went to the gym, so I don't get all lazy." She smiled. "So just settle down. I am not going to bail on you because you have enough energy to argue with me. I'm going to make sure you recover...unless you really _want_ to go back to the hospital..."

"Don't even joke about that. "

"All right then." She gently poked him. "Since you had a nap, do you feel up to watching a movie before going to bed?"

"If that's what you want to do..."

She squeezed his arm. "Any preferences?"

"Whatever. I don't care."

He'd had the same conversation with Eames many times. It never mattered to him what she wanted to watch. He was content to simply spend time with her, and he felt that way about Barb, too. Only with Barb, it was a different kind of desire. With Eames it was about companionship and simply not being alone for an evening. With Barb, he wanted more, but he had no idea how to tell her or show her that he did. Once, she'd wanted the same thing, but he couldn't get past the fact that she'd walked away. So he settled quietly into the corner of the couch, watching her as she chose a DVD and set it in the player.

He expected her to situate herself on the opposite side of the couch, but she didn't. She dropped down into the middle of the couch, settled into the back of it and propped her feet up on the coffee table. His hand twitched as he considered slipping his arm around her shoulders, but he hesitated. She had drawn a line in the sand and he was reluctant to cross it with no indication from her that he could. Folding his arms across his chest, he kept to himself, and fought back a renewed surge of pain that stemmed from her rejection seven months ago.

Barb noticed when he fidgeted and she wondered what he was thinking. He had an opportunity to make a move if he so chose, and she hoped he would. But when he folded his arms across his chest and softly sighed, she suppressed a wave of disappointment and wondered if he had lost the desire she'd once seen in his eyes. The biggest mistake of her life had been sending him out of it, but it was a mistake she had realized too late. What was done, though, was done and, right or wrong, she had made her decision and now she was stuck with it.


	14. Breakthrough

Over the next few nights, he was woken by an escalating series of nightmares. Within a few minutes of waking, drenched in sweat and breathing hard, the pain a raging fire along the right side of his chest, he could count on Barb knocking on the open door. He always allowed her entry. Her presence alone was soothing. She would sit lightly on the edge of the bed and talk to him, holding his hand and gently caressing his arm. It never mattered what she said; she helped draw him away from the nightmare, out of its grip so that when he returned to sleep, it wouldn't come back. It never prevented a new nightmare from appearing the next night, but it did grant him a reprieve which helped his body and his mind to heal more quickly.

The following morning, the same conversation led to the same argument and the same withdrawal on his part, but Barb did not back off. His objections were losing their fire, though. She knew she was wearing him down. It troubled her that he was so resistant to confide in her, but when she talked to Alex about it, she was reassured. Alex had the same arguments with him. It was a part of his life he shared with no one. He refused to allow anyone in to see the horrors of what haunted him, and all Eames had ever been able to do, all he ever allowed her to do, was comfort him until he was able to return to sleep. She'd told Barb if she could find a way in, to chase those nightmares away, she'd take her to dinner for a month. But he kept her at arms' length, just as he did his closest friend. He kept his dreams under closer guard than he did his heart.

Barb noticed that his dreams seemed to be escalating. A week ago, he had merely woken in a cold sweat. Now he was waking in a panic, and it took much longer to calm him down. She knew she could break through the hard shell he hid beneath, given time, and she had plenty of time. She wondered, though, who he felt he was protecting, himself, or the people he loved.

* * *

He'd been doing a great deal of thinking lately, about the patterns of his life and the women who found themselves in it. When he thought about his girlfriends, he saw a certain type: tall, nicely built, usually brunette. But he also saw relationships that were primarily superficial, very physical, and unfortunately short-lived. 

Then his thoughts turned to another class of woman that dominated his life: the women who made their way past his defenses and into his heart. They, also, followed a similar pattern to one another. There were five of them, and only five. From his earliest days, his mother and his grandmother filled his memories. They were both small women, physically, but they were powerful personalities, strong women who had created lasting impressions in the memories of a small boy. Many of those memories were good...very good, in fact, until his mother got sick. He had no bad memories of his grandmother, but she died when he was six, a devastating blow, followed closely by the emergence of his mother's schizophrenia, which had destroyed his childhood and haunted his life. But she was still important to him, and he loved her.

During his early adulthood, he had fallen in love, which had been a new experience for him at the time. Her name had been Siobhan and he met her in Germany. Born and raised in Ireland, she had been a real firecracker. She had been a small woman, all of five feet tall and a hundred pounds. Her full, thick mane of red hair fit her fiery personality. Everything about her was passionate, exciting and intense, and he had been taken with her since the day they met when she threatened to climb up on a chair and teach him a lesson. His laughter had really pissed her off, but she'd taught him many lessons during the time they were together, most of them delightfully pleasant. After almost two years, he had asked her to marry him, something that had excited not only her mother, but his. His life had been dealt another devastating blow when she went home to plan the wedding with her mother and they both had been killed in an IRA bombing. It was something he had never fully gotten over.

This led up to Eames and it explained his deep fear of losing her, not just as a partner, but from his life. He had kept his distance from her early in their partnership, but as time passed, he found she had somehow slipped past the walls he had erected around his heart. At the moment, she was the most significant person in his life, along with his mother. And she was the one person he could not do without. But that love had never turned romantic, and he wasn't sure why. Probably because his romances never lasted and he was terrified of losing her. A failed romance would almost certainly drive her from his life. So he was careful to avoid that with her. Their relationship was close, deeply affectionate and mutually beneficial, but not romantic.

And that led him to the last woman who had gained importance in his life: Barb. Like the others, she was small, strong-willed and tough. He'd first met her four years ago, when a forearm fracture had required surgery to repair. Subsequent hospitalizations had brought her back into his life, but he had not tried to pursue any kind of relationship once he was discharged. There were other things in his life overwhelming him during those times: work, his mother's escalating illness, finding his new partner's place in his life, and, once, a difficult girlfriend who had been insanely jealous of the nurse, as well as Eames, and had not lasted much past the end of that hospitalization. Until his last hospitalization...After that he'd tried to start a relationship with her, but it seemed as though the world knew and conspired against him to see him fail. Ultimately, the world won.

But now he was coming to realize that his attachment to her had absolutely nothing to do with his attraction to her. His attachment to her was based on trust, a very hard-won thing with him. Only with Eames had he developed a relationship built on trust, partly because of the nature of their partnership and partly because of her steadfast support of him, no matter what. Even when she disagreed with him, she stood by him. His relationship with Barb had started along a similar vein. As his nurse, there had to be a level of trust between them. It had not been there at first, but she persisted and he came, over time, to trust her, as he did Eames, with his life. He started to trust her with his heart but because she had trouble dealing with his life and had made the decision not to remain in it, he was left floundering. Now, though, she was back and he felt himself slipping. It had taken no time at all for her to slide past his walls again, but he was resistant. Try as he would to distance himself from her, he found himself irresistibly drawn to her. Women walked out of his life all the time, but none had hurt him as deeply as she. He was at a loss to explain why; he just knew that she had. And it irritated him that he couldn't read her as readily as he could read other people. He could profile anyone, even Eames, which irritated the crap out of her, but he couldn't read Barb. He thought he saw affection in her, but he was reluctant to read it as that. He found himself second-guessing everything, and he simply had no idea what to do. He was adrift in a storm of confusion and he had no compass. She was his compass, and she was giving him no guidance. He tried to push her away, but he found himself wanting more and more to draw her closer. She had acknowledged that she'd hurt him, and then she admitted that she'd hurt herself in the process, and he had no idea how to interpret that. If there was a bottom line, it was that he loved her, and now he had no idea what to do about it. He just knew that he was tired of hurting, and only she could ease the pain that he felt...but he didn't know how to let her do that. She eased his physical pain with little difficulty. It was his emotional pain that was now leaving scars.

* * *

He wasn't particularly hungry, but he tried to eat some, to appease Barb. She did enough for him that he felt it a small matter to try to make her happy by eating when she asked him to. He felt a restless anxiety that he knew was related to the escalating series of nightmares he was trapped by and he was trying hard not to take it out on her. He was deeply impressed that she would stand up to him, in spite of the grumpiness he couldn't fully suppress. When he snapped at her, she would snap right back at him, and that always made him smile, just as it did when Eames did it. 

He managed to eat about half of his dinner before excusing himself from the table. She watched him take his plate and glass into the kitchen, wash and dry them, then place them in the cabinets where they belonged. She kept her silence as he took his medicine bottles from the refrigerator, washing the pills down with a glass of water. He stopped in the kitchen doorway when he noticed that she was watching him. "What?"

"I'm trying to figure out what's troubling you."

He sighed in annoyance and started toward the living room, unable to keep a handle on his irritability. Eames understood when he got like this, and he was unwilling to give anyone else a chance to understand.

Barb took care of her own dishes and cleaned the rest of the kitchen. Turning the light off, she went into the living room where he was wandering aimlessly around the room. She wasn't certain which she preferred, his restless wandering or his agitated pacing. She did know that she didn't really care for either, but she had seen both many times over the years she'd taken care of him in the hospital. She accepted those behaviors as part of who he was, but acceptance didn't mean she had to like them.

"What are you afraid of?" she asked.

He stopped wandering and looked at her. "Who says I'm afraid?"

_Out of the frying pan, into the fire... _"Your nightmares are coming from some fear you haven't yet confronted."

"What do you know about my dreams?"

She watched him tense and decided to grab the bull by the horns. "I know what I have seen and heard. I can see the fear in you, Bobby."

He snapped. "What the hell do you know about it?" he yelled. "You have no idea what goes on in my head."

She stood right in front if him, eyes blazing. "No one does, you jackass. You won't let anyone in!"

"Did you ever think there might be a good reason for that?"

"Did you ever think there are better reasons for letting someone in?"

"What makes you such an expert?"

"Does five years' experience in psychiatric nursing count?"

That gave him pause, and she saw some of the anger fade, but not enough. She remained facing him, chin out, daring him to keep the fight going. He moved closer, glaring down at her. She didn't flinch. "You can't intimidate me, detective," she growled. "Be an ass all you want, you are not going to scare me off."

She watched the fire fade from his eyes. She'd said the right thing. Subconsciously testing the limits, the fight within him slipped away when she refused to back down. The same thing had happened with his partner. The more he tested the limits of her tolerance, the closer she got to him. Eames refused to let him get away with pushing her away, and now Barb was doing the same thing. He felt an almost overwhelming urge to pull her close and kiss the anger away, but instead, he stepped away, dropping onto the couch and covering his face with both hands.

With the recession of his anger, hers faded as well. She slid out of her fight stance and watched him turn into himself. She let him go. She'd hit a chord, though she wasn't exactly sure what that chord was. This was the furthest she had ever gotten with him. It was far enough for now. If she pushed too hard, he'd withdraw beyond her reach, and she didn't want that.

She sat down on the far end of the couch from him and picked up the remote, turning the television on and scanning through the channels. His hands dropped away from his face and he looked at her. She still seemed comfortable. His little eruption had not seemed to phase her. He could recall a number of relationships that had ended after much smaller explosions of temper. He didn't always intend to intimidate, especially when dealing with a woman he cared for. Eames was never phased by his temper. She yelled back at him, too. But he didn't show her that side of him too often. He was afraid to. He knew that if he let it loose, his rage could be a frightening thing. Eames sometimes compared him to certain animals, especially when she was annoyed with him. A bear, sometimes a moose or an ape...and each was appropriate. Each appeared docile and even lovable...unless provoked or threatened. Then they could be deadly. He leaned forward, bracing his elbows on his knees, and studied his hands.

She looked over at him. "Bobby?"

He hesitated, then looked at her and said, "I, uh...I'm sorry. I shouldn't have yelled at you."

"Forget it. I'm not sorry for yelling at you. You deserved it."

He couldn't keep back the small smile that touched his face. "I know I did."

"I won't ask you any more...today."

"Great. That means tomorrow's fair game."

"You got that right."

He tilted his head and studied her more closely. "What are you doing working in medical-surgical nursing if you're trained in psychiatric nursing?"

"I had a...bad experience." He waited, and she knew he wanted more details. She sensed leverage. "I'll make you a deal. I'll tell you what happened to me, if you tell me more about what has you so terrified."

That gave him pause. This woman was every bit as stubborn as Eames was. He never won against her either, although she had stopped pushing him to disclose his dreams to her. Barb, though, was not backing off. Slowly, with reluctance, he nodded. "All right, Barb," he whispered. "You win."

"This isn't a contest or a battle, beyond the fact that you make it one. It really doesn't have to be this hard." He shifted his eyes away, and she sensed he was back on the verge of withdrawal. "Ten years ago," she said quietly, drawing him back to her. "I worked in a psychiatric facility, taking care of disturbed teenagers. The kids on my wing were a mixed bunch. Four with traumatic brain injuries, two with autism, three with schizophrenia and two who had been so badly abused as young children they could not relate to the world without rage-driven violence. I made the mistake of forgetting that these children were severely disturbed. I realize now I should have worked with adults, but I loved the children, and that was my biggest mistake. I looked at them and I saw children, not what they were capable of." She lifted the edge of her shirt as far as her rib cage, revealing a long, white scar on the left side of her abdomen that curved around almost to her spine. Without going into the details, she said, "I almost died. After that, I lost my passion for that particular kind of nursing. That's why I work in medical-surgical nursing, and I love it."

He moved closer, reaching his hand out tentatively. She didn't lower her shirt to cover the scar. She let his fingers come into contact with her scarred side, let him lightly trace the white line, all that was left of a life-threatening injury. "Where did you work?"

"It's outside the city. I doubt you've had any experience with it."

He raised his eyes to meet hers. "Where?"

"A full-service psychiatric facility called Carmel Ridge." He was visibly shaken, and that troubled her. "Bobby?"

Softly, he whispered, "W-was one of the schizophrenic children involved?"

"As a matter of fact, yes. She led the attack."

His hand shook against her skin. He didn't look at her. "M-my mother...she has schizophrenia. Sh-she had her first break when I was seven."

She was stunned, but she didn't let it show. Instead, she reached out to him, placing her hand over his as it continued to trace the scar on her side. "How is she?"

He shrugged. "She was often non-compliant, so she relapsed frequently. In her world, there was always a _them_, and if _they_ weren't after me, then I was one of _them_. She lives at Carmel Ridge. I...had to have her admitted wh-when her disease became unmanageable. I did all I could for her for as long as I could. Sh-she was admitted just after that attack on you. I remember hearing about it."

He hadn't taken his eyes from the scar beneath his fingers, or the hand that lay over his. Finally, he broke contact, and he got up from the couch. She settled her shirt back into place and watched him. "If I say I'm sorry, you'll get mad, so I'll just say I understand because you now know that I do."

He nodded. "Thank you."

She decided not to push him now for the promised details of his dreams. He had revealed something much deeper and she let it go. But he didn't forget his promise. "Loss..." he whispered as he examined the familiar bindings of the books that filled the larger of the two bookcases in his living room.

"Loss?"

He turned his head to look at her. "You wanted to know what terrified me. That's it. That's what haunts my dreams and drives my nightmares. Fear of loss...fear of losing..." He stopped to fight a tremor that coursed through his body. His voice, already barely above a whisper, dropped even lower. "...losing what's important to me."

She was quiet, watching his silent struggle. Finally, she said, "Your job...your mother...your partner... Those are the things most important to you. Those are the things you fear losing."

He nodded. She was almost right. They were the things he most fear losing, but she had forgotten one: he now feared losing her as well. But he offered nothing more, and she asked for nothing more. She understood more about him now than she ever did, but she passed no judgment. Nothing about him had changed except her understanding of his past. When he glanced at her, she understood that he was looking for judgment in her face. She saw the change in his eyes when he failed to find it, but he said nothing more. He simply turned toward the hallway, muttered "Good night, Barb," and headed for his room.

"Good night, Bobby," she answered, and she left him alone.


	15. Just A Dream

_He looked out across the meadow as the breeze rippled through the long grass. Pink, white and purple flowers peppered the green carpet. He started across the field, taking long easy strides. At the far side of the clearing was a dense forest, and there were two people standing there. One he recognized as Eames. The other was a man, but he couldn't make out anything about him. She noticed him and waved, starting toward him across the field. The man followed her._

_He didn't notice the darkening sky until lightning ripped through the clouds, followed by a deafening boom of thunder. He looked up into the roiling clouds. When he looked back, there was another rumble that came from deep in the earth and the ground split open, bisecting the field. He watched in horror as Eames teetered on the edge of the opening. Her friend was gone, swallowed by the hungry earth. He ran toward her but just as he reached her, a hand clamped on his shoulder, yanking him back, away from her. She tumbled backwards into the chasm and he spun to face the person who'd pulled him away and stopped him from saving her. It was his mother._

_He backed away from her in disbelief and found himself falling...falling...landing with a bone-jarring thud on a sandy beach. Shaking his head to clear it, he got to his feet and looked around for Eames. All he could see was ocean and beach. Far down the sandy oceanside, he saw another figure and he started for it. He recognized Barb and he could feel his pounding heart settle as she drew closer. Without warning, a huge wave thundered out of the sea and engulfed her. In a moment she was gone. She surfaced out in the churning surf and he dove in, swimming hard toward her. He was almost there, one more stroke...and again he was stopped, pulled from the angry sea...and it was his mother..._

He woke with a shout, heart pounding, sweat running down his face and torso. He couldn't catch his breath. And then, Barb was there, touching him, talking to him... He grabbed her and pulled her into his arms, holding her tight. Resting his head against hers, he struggled to breathe. Her hands gently rubbed his back and his heart gradually stopped pounding; he could breathe again. Slowly, he released her. "I-I'm sorry..."

She shook her head as she sat back. "Don't apologize. Are you all right now?"

He nodded. "I'm okay."

She laid her hand on his cheek, which was flushed. "Relax."

With gentle pressure on his chest, she got him to lay back. His heart rate was still elevated but it was settling as he calmed. She had seen more than fear in his eyes. She had seen terror. Gently, she stroked the side of his face. He closed his eyes and focused on her to draw himself away from the nightmare. "Oh, God..." he groaned.

Her hand clasped his and squeezed. He closed his hand and held tight. "I...I really am sorry to keep waking you. I...I'm used to this, Barb. Nightmares are nothing new to me."

She didn't doubt that. "No need to apologize. Just...let me help you."

"Help me? Barb, I've been having dreams like this all my life. How can you help me?"

"Can you just let me try? Talk to me, Bobby."

His heart had settled and he was much calmer. He knew of no way to break the cycle of his dreams except to let them happen. But he had already cracked the door and let her get a foot in. She knew that loss was one of his greatest fears. Quietly, with his voice shaking at points in the story, he related the dream for her. She studied him in the dim light of the room as she moved her hand to his chest and gently rubbed. He sighed softly. She knew how vulnerable he was right now, but she wasn't sure what to tell him. "Go back to sleep, Bobby, and we'll talk about it in the morning."

He cocked his head to the side and said, "You want to think about it."

There was no question in his tone. She nodded. "For a little while, yes."

His thumb gently stroked her hand. "All right. Think about it. Just...stay...okay?"

She smiled warmly. "I'm not going anywhere. I promise."

He turned toward her, onto his side, and looked at her. "It's just a dream," he said softly.

She laid her hand on his back and gently rubbed. "I know."

His eyes began to drift closed. "Just a dream..." he murmured.

Gradually, his hand loosened its grip on hers and his breathing became deep and easy. Leaning down, she softly kissed his cheek. "Sleep well," she whispered.

She left the room and returned to the couch, but she couldn't go back to sleep. She wasn't sure at all why she was part of his nightmare, playing a role as prominent as Alex's in his dream. She couldn't imagine being important to him, not after what had happened. She now felt even more guilty for stepping away from him when he had his sick mother to cope with as well. How could she have done that to him? She had been selfish, failing to take into account how he might feel. She had been so wrapped up in her own misery. She turned over onto her side, unable to dispel the sick feeling from her gut. A tear slid down her face and dropped onto the pillow. Her reasons for being unable to cope with the uncertainty of their relationship seemed trivial now.

Bobby seemed torn between his life and his mother, and she had to wonder if he blamed his mother for what had happened. He had to know she had no control over the fact that she was ill. Barb had made a big mistake when she stepped away from their relationship, and it had taken awhile for her to realize that. But when she called him several weeks later, he was still very angry, very hurt. Now, the anger was gone, mostly, but she wondered how much of the hurt remained. She wondered if there was any hope that he might be willing to give them one more chance. With a sigh, she realized she would have to tell him why she'd done what she did. He trusted her enough to tell her about his mother. Now she had to trust him enough to let him into her past, too...her past _and_ her present.

* * *

She wasn't surprised that he slept late the next morning. It had been a rough night for him. She had slept little as she thought long and hard about his dream and what it could possibly mean, and it troubled her that, on some level, he saw his mother as interfering in his life. Maybe knowing that the reason behind her decision had nothing to do with his mother would help him to get over that. 

She heard him moving around and when the bathroom door closed, she went into the kitchen to fix him something to eat. By the time he came out of the shower, she was done, placing a plate of pancakes and bacon on the table with a cup of coffee. Pouring a cup of coffee for herself, she sat across from him. "How do you feel?" she asked.

He studied her before he answered, "Restless. You look tired."

"Just a little. I had a lot of thinking to do."

"I'm sorry. I...had no business burdening you with that."

"I asked, remember? I want to help you, Bobby. I really do. And I think that maybe I can."

He snorted. "Don't count on it, Barb."

"I want to ask you something, and I'd like you to give it some serious thought before you answer."

"Go on."

"Do you blame your mother for what happened between us?"

He didn't have to give it too much thought. He had already thought it through many times. Slowly, he nodded. "I did. I tried not to, but I did."

"You feel torn between your responsibilities to your mother and the rest of your life. You're being pulled in different directions and it troubles you. You're afraid you're going to fail someone along the way, and it will be your mother's fault."

"She's very...demanding, especially when she has a break. She has no tolerance for the rest of my life. When I can't accomodate her and meet her demands, she...becomes difficult. She's very good at laying on the guilt. It's just easiest to let her have her way."

"What happened that last night we were together?"

"We knew she was heading for a break. A new orderly made the mistake of taking her to the dining room instead of bringing her dinner to her room. She l-lost it at dinner and smashed a glass...and she slashed up her arms and legs with a busted shard. They needed me there. S-sometimes...she'll respond to me and I can bring her back. Sometimes I just make it worse. There's no way to tell how she's going to react, but I have to try. The sooner I can get there, the better chance I have of reaching her. That night...it was a bad one. I couldn't reach her...and it lasted for more than a week. It's hard to see her restrained and sedated. It's even harder to listen to the things she says during those times."

She couldn't imagine how hard it must have been for him as a child, dealing with her psychotic breaks. She could see that it was still difficult for him, and her heart went out to him. But she didn't reach out. He would read that as pity, and she definitely did not feel pity for him. After coming this far, she didn't want to drive him away. "I want you to know that it wasn't her fault I called it off. It was my fault."

His brow furrowed in a frown. "It wasn't your fault I got called away every time we tried to get together. I could have put things off for a little while...I-I didn't put enough effort into trying to build our relationship. And that was my fault, not yours."

"Don't. Everything is not your fault. You have responsibilities--to your mother, to your job. I wasn't sensitive to that. And I just couldn't handle all the ups and downs at the time. Do you think for a moment that I wanted to do what I did?"

He hadn't wanted to face it, but he had not missed the pain in her face when she'd broken it off. At the time, he couldn't get past his own pain. "You said you had a reason. What was it?"

She was quiet for a long minute. Finally, she answered, "His name is Brian."


	16. Wounded Hearts

_His name is Brian._

He looked confused. A boyfriend? Husband? "Brian?"

She nodded. "My son."

His eyebrows raised in surprise. "S-son? You told me all about your cat, but it slipped your mind that you have a son?"

She laughed and his face softened. "Don't be ridiculous. Brian is my world. But I have always kept him out of my relationships unless they became serious. Debate it however you want. I was never comfortable having him around anyone I didn't know. I suppose I have always overprotected him, but he was all I had. Until I knew the man I was dating better, Brian was never part of it. Needless to say, I haven't dated much."

"How old is he?"

"Nineteen."

"And you're still protecting him?"

She shrugged and her face colored a little. "I guess old habits die hard. I didn't think much about it really. I would have told you about him if we'd ever had the opportunity to finish a date."

"Does he know about me?"

"Yes. He does. At least, some things. He knows that you took me out for dinner a few times, and he knows it didn't work out between us."

"I'm at a big disadvantage here."

"You wouldn't have been for long."

"Uh, so what does Brian have to do with why you stopped seeing me? He didn't approve?"

"No, nothing like that. He was actually looking forward to meeting you. But right at the time you and I were trying to make a start, Brian decided he was going to make a start as well. He got a job at the Field Museum and he moved to Chicago just before I broke it off. I had a very hard time when he left, but I never let him see that. And then, when you kept getting called away...I know it was out of your control, and it didn't bother me at first. But then I started to feel rejected. After Brian actually left, your rejection on top of his was too much."

His face was pained. "I never rejected you...and I'm sure your son didn't either."

"I know that, but that's how I was feeling, rational or not. I know that suppressing everything was a bad thing to do, but I had no one I was comfortable enough with to talk to about it. The thought of being with you made letting him go more tolerable. I saw _us_ as something very good, and the worst thing I could have possibly done was exactly what I did. I sent you out of my life. It killed me to say good-bye. At the time, I thought it would be less painful to end it, but I was wrong. In the long run, it was more painful because of the feelings I had already developed for you, but I had no idea how to make it right. I tried to call you, to talk to you, but you wanted none of it."

God, what a bastard he'd been...and he hadn't even known it. He scrubbed his face with both hands. "I-I am so sorry. I was hurting...and you, uh, you just...called at the wrong time."

"That was the problem. Our timing was always wrong. Everything that was going on just...overloaded me. I couldn't do it any longer. I couldn't change Brian's decision, or get rid of the pain in my past. The only thing that was left for me to change was our relationship. I wasn't going to ask you to put aside your sick mother or your job, but I couldn't handle the ups and downs right then, so I convinced myself it wasn't going to work. I wasn't going to put myself through any more pain."

He was utterly confused. "I-I, uh, I don't understand. How does your past work into this?"

Reassured by his curiosity though still reluctant to discuss it, she took a deep breath and braced herself to recount the most painful time in her life. "Kevin is the past that came back to haunt me."

He hesitated. With everything he saw as part of his job, he braced himself to hear what Kevin had done to her. His job taught him to expect the worst. "Haunt you? What did he do to you?"

She swallowed at the bittersweet memories of her distant past and the pain that still accompanied them. She spoke slowly, and she would not look at him. "Kevin and I were together for almost three years, married for most of that time. He...died when Brian was two. It was a very virulent form of prostate cancer. I had just started working at Carmel Ridge, and I had to take a leave to care for him. From diagnosis to death, it lasted seven months." She closed her eyes, remembering the last two horrible months of Kevin's life. "Brian didn't understand where his daddy went...and I couldn't understand why he'd been taken. For the last seventeen years, it's been Brian and me. He has been my life and the focus of my world. When he left...I couldn't handle what was happening, or not happening, between you and me."

He sighed and looked down at his hands. She wrapped both hands around her coffee cup and looked into the brown liquid. Neither of them looked up. "I..." He faltered and remained silent for a long time. "I-I would have understood," he said softly.

"I know that now. But what was happening with us just...made everything I was feeling then worse for me. I stopped thinking straight and just...reacted. And it was the worst thing I could do. All my life I have been very careful with my decisions. I tried never to overreact or make a decision in haste. This time, I did, and when I went back and thought about it, I realized that I could not have been more wrong. I hurt you, and I not only hurt myself, but I sent away the one person who would have helped to make everything tolerable...the one person who could make my life...right again."

He was quiet, studying his plate for a moment. "Barb..." His voice was gentle. "You spend your life taking care of others. It's not wrong to look out for yourself once in awhile."

"But I chose the worst time to do that. I never should have let you go."

He leaned his mouth against folded hands and closed his eyes. "I...I...need to think..." he muttered, getting up and heading to his room. She sat at the table for a moment, then took the dishes to the sink and washed them. And she wondered what she had done...

* * *

He didn't feel up to pacing for a change. He wasn't unsettled or agitated, and his chest hurt, badly. There was a deep burning on the right side that he was hard-pressed to ignore. So he laid down on the bed, folding his left arm under his head and bracing his right arm against his side as he tried to figure out just what he was feeling.

At the premature end of every date, he had kissed her goodnight, and he remembered how each kiss held the promise of more. He had liked kissing her, and he'd found inside himself a growing desire for more than just a kiss. But when the promise went unfulfilled and his desire was left unsated, he was left feeling empty, incomplete and more than a little frustrated. That had been difficult to resolve, and now he was certain he'd never succeeded. More than once he'd had to struggle with himself not to call her, but he'd sure wanted to. He'd thought of her often, and the few relationships he'd started as he tried to get over her had been dismal failures. He simply could not escape what his heart desired, and that, it seemed, was her. He couldn't explain why; he just knew that it was true.

The knowledge that there were other factors he'd known nothing about driving her to turn away from him gave him a sense of relief and drew much of the burden of failure from him. He still accepted responsibility for the role he played in her departure, but knowing that it really wasn't entirely his fault changed his perspective.

His thoughts shifted to her late husband. To have been widowed so young, and left with a small child to raise alone...that had to have been hard for her. And then, to have that child move halfway across the country...no wonder she was feeling rejected. He couldn't blame her for how she felt. He would have felt the same way. Hell, he _had_ felt the same way because she had rejected him, however, he had never suffered a bruised ego from it. Oddly, he had never once felt that _he_ was the one being rejected, regardless of what he'd ever said. She had not rejected him. She had reacted to circumstances, which had conspired against them.

And now, it seemed, fate had changed its mind, bringing them together for a rare opportunity to make things right. And things certainly were wrong. He had spent the last seven months searching for... something. He wasn't quite certain what that something was, but he did know he had found it only with Barb.

His eyes began to close and his mind blurred as he began to drift off. In that region of consciousness just before sleep made its final claim, he realized what she had that he had been searching for. She had his heart.

* * *

She let an hour pass before she went to check on him. Regardless of what happened, she still had a responsibility to take care of him. He didn't answer when she knocked, so she slowly eased the door open. She wasn't entirely surprised to find him asleep. His breathing was easy and he seemed to be resting comfortably, so she left the room.

Sitting on the couch, she took stock of her emotions. They had finally settled. She had been surprised when a new well of emotion had tried to overwhelm her after Bobby left that night seven months ago, and at the bottom of that well she found Kevin. She had dearly loved him and losing him had dealt her a devastating blow from which she had never fully recovered. She had come to terms with his death long ago, and she was surprised to find emotional memories of him present in what she had felt when Bobby left. She knew he wasn't coming back, and this time she was responsible. No one took him from her; she sent him away. And that made losing him worse than losing Kevin had been. It had taken weeks for her to realize how strongly she felt about the loss. She still remembered every kiss he'd given her before he took off to a crime scene or to Carmel Ridge. She still remembered the longing that had followed every departure...the disappointment...and the irrational feeling of rejection and desertion that reminded her of how she'd felt in the months that followed Kevin's death. Rationally, she knew it was ridiculous. He was not choosing to leave. He had to go. His reluctance to leave was what had let her accept his next invitation out, every time. She would never forget the look in his eyes each time it happened. His eyes told her that he was feeling everything she did. And she had never forgotten the way her body reacted to him and how she could never quite rid herself of a deep-seated desire she had never felt before. She hadn't fully realized that she had fallen in love with him.

Before Brian left, she had been able to accept the ups and downs of dating Bobby. She had been able to joke with him about the interrupted meals and plan the next one. She had been able to take everything in stride, as she always did. She put off dealing with her son's pending departure, unconsciously pretending that if she didn't think about it, it wouldn't happen. But it did happen, and everything in her life went spinning out of control. Her emotions developed a raw edge they hadn't had in seventeen years. It was like losing Kevin all over again. Three more abruptly terminated dates with Bobby, and she couldn't handle it any more. She'd lost her grip on everything, and he was the one who had to deal with the fallout. It had never once occurred to her to explain what was going on. She wanted to get to know him better before she introduced him to Brian, and then Brian was gone and her life turned upside down, in a very bad way. Explaining anything was the furthest thing from her mind. She just wanted to escape from the pain, and so she ran.

When she'd finally returned to herself, nothing was the same. Her life echoed with a hollow emptiness it hadn't felt in years. Desperate, she'd called Bobby. He hadn't been rude, but his distant, cold tone broke her heart, and she'd said good-bye for good...until he'd been brought into the emergency room that day. In her dreams for days after, she relived the day that Kevin died...followed by haunting nightmares of losing Bobby...

She hurried down the hall once more to make certain he was all right. Reassured, she wandered around the apartment, looking for something to do. She set out everything but the meat she would need to make dinner, wiped down the counters and the table, wrote out a shopping list...and finally settled on the couch with a book to wait for him to waken. She didn't know what else to do.


	17. Second Chances

When he woke, the pain in his chest was better. He got up and opened the door, surprised to be met by the odor of dinner cooking. He looked at the time. Hell, he'd slept for most of the afternoon.

Barb was at the stove when he appeared in the doorway, leaning against it. She turned her head and studied him. "Feeling all right?"

He nodded. "I guess so."

She nodded her head toward the pill bottles on the refrigerator. "At least take the antibiotics. You're almost done with them."

"Uh, why didn't you wake me?"

"You sleep when you need it. I'm not going to disrupt that. Sometimes it's a matter of what is best for you. Right now, sleep is what's best for you."

He had no argument for that as he got a glass of water and swallowed the antibiotics. Then he turned and leaned against the counter, watching her. "Uh, does Brian like Chicago?"

She nodded. "He loves it there."

"You were hoping he wouldn't."

"No...not really. I want him to be happy. It's not really about me. He's an adult now. I've done my part and raised him."

"But it's still not easy to let him go."

"No. No, it's not. Most of the time, I feel...lost...without him around."

He nodded slowly. "I understand that. He's been the focus of your entire adult life. To lose your focus like that..." He shrugged. "I imagine when my mom dies, I'll feel the same kind of...emptiness."

She was quiet as she added rice to a pot of boiling water. "I do feel empty," she finally said. "Marcus just doesn't fill the gap. No one does. So I try to find my way by working all the time." She sighed. "Ray Harper has been trying to get me to take time off and go to visit Brian, but I'm afraid I won't come back, and that wouldn't be fair to Brian or me. My life is here in New York. He has the right to build his own life wherever he wants to build it. I don't have the right to interfere with that. He needs to find his own way, and I have to deal with it. I just...I haven't dealt with it very well at all."

"When did he leave?"

"In September. He came home for Christmas, and it was that much harder watching him leave again. Every time I think I'm getting better, well, I realize that I'm not."

"Eight months..." he mused softly. Brian left a month before she stopped seeing him. "Um, you said he started school?"

"In January. He goes to the University of Illinois."

"And he works at the Field Museum?"

"Yes. He has decided he wants to be a curator. He's very passionate about it. He seems to have found his niche."

"And you feel like you've lost yours."

She added gravy mix to the meat and stirred it. She didn't look at him. He was hitting all the nails right on the head. "I feel like I've lost a lot of things."

He fought against a desire to see what was in her eyes. With effort, he remained where he was, leaning back against the counter beside the sink. He wasn't sure what to say, or even if there was anything he could say that would make her feel better. He wondered if she counted losing him among the things she'd lost since Brian left, but he didn't say anything about it. He wasn't sure he wanted to know... because she hadn't lost him. She'd sent him away.

Neither said anything more, and he finally stepped away from the counter and left the kitchen. Sitting on the couch, he leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees and thinking. When she touched his back, he turned and looked at her. "Dinner's ready," she said quietly.

"Barb, sit down for a minute." She hesitated. "Please."

Walking around the end of the couch, she sat down beside him. Before he could speak, she drew in a deep breath and said, "Bobby, you don't have to say anything. I wanted you to know why I did what I did and why I regret it. That puts you under no obligation. I can't undo what I did, and I realize that. It's over and done with and I have to accept that. I'm not asking for a second chance."

She couldn't read his face. "Is this how you want it?"

"What choice do I have? This is how it is. I'm not a romantic. Life doesn't work out like it does in the movies. Sometimes there just are no happy endings."

"Do you really believe that?"

"It doesn't matter what I believe. What matters is what life has taught me. In a perfect world, my son would still live in New York and I would never have chased you away. But it's not a perfect world, and life is what it is."

He knew exactly what she was doing. She was playing the same game he had played all his life. Protect the heart so it doesn't get trampled any more than it already has. Life was a harsh teacher. But her description of her perfect world puzzled him. "Why wouldn't you choose to have Kevin live instead of having me stay?"

She gave that some thought. "Kevin has been gone far longer than he was with me. I suppose the permanence of death has taught me that would never be an option. You are still here, so that makes you an option."

He nodded slowly. "So I'm an option?"

"You were an option."

"But not any more?"

Now she was confused. "If I thought there was a chance..."

She trailed off and he frowned. "A chance for what, Barb?"

"For us..."

"Do you?"

She wasn't used to being knocked off balance. "Do I what?"

"Think there's a chance for us?" When she didn't answer, he moved closer and kept pushing the issue. "Do you _want_ there to be a second chance...for us?"

She studied his face. "Of course I do. I tried to tell you that when I called..."

He shook his head and touched her lips with his fingertips, silencing her. "I'm sorry about that. I...I really am. There were many times I wanted to call you, and I always talked myself out of it. You called once—I thought that if you wanted to try again, you'd let me know. You never did."

"Can you blame me?"

He shook his head. "No. I can't." He let his fingers trail along her jaw. "But I can ask you to forgive me," he whispered. "And give me another chance."

"Forgive _you_...?"

"...and give me another chance."

"I'm the one who should be asking you for this, Bobby. You had no control over the events that led to my rejection."

He wasn't inclined to argue with her, but he knew he was partly to blame for the failure of their relationship. Right now, though, he saw a chance to possibly make it right, and he still cared deeply enough to take it. "Okay, then...ask."

"It's not as simple as that, you know."

"Why not?"

_Why not?_ She tried to ask him once, and his reaction to her then made her gunshy now. Yet here he was, telling her it was all right to ask again. "All right, Bobby," she said, her voice low to try to prevent it from catching with the emotion she felt welling from deep inside. "Do you have it in you to give me one more chance?"

His thumb stroked her jawline. He didn't answer, finding himself at a rare loss for the right words. He felt deeply overwhelmed, and he knew if he let it get away from him, he would end up back in the hospital. Trembling with the effort to maintain his control, he leaned closer and lightly brushed his lips over hers. Finally, he whispered, "I was the one who didn't put enough of myself into turning you and me into us. I would welcome the chance to try one more time."

She smiled and pressed her forehead against his. "Maybe this time we can both get it right."

He sat back and let out an uneven breath. He touched her hand, uncertain, and decided to change the subject before he got himself in real trouble. "Um, maybe we can...um, I think we'd better eat...b-before Eames gets here. You don't want to...go to work out on a full stomach."

"No, that's not a good idea." She studied him. "Are you all right? I don't have to go..."

He waved a hand. "It's all right. I-I'm fine."

"Bobby..."

"Later, Barb. Please..."

"If you're sure..."

"I'm positive."

She gently caressed his cheek before getting up and walking to the table. After a moment, he joined her. They ate in silence, and when Eames arrived an hour later, Barb left for the gym, but not before she met his eyes and smiled.  
--

"So, how's Teddy?" he asked with a grin.

"He's fine. He's taking me to see _Mamma Mia_ at the Winter Garden Theater tomorrow night."

He smiled and softly laughed, minimizing his discomfort by bracing his side with his arm. "What made him choose that play?"

"We were discussing music one night, and I told him how much I liked ABBA. The rest he did on his own."

"He's racking up the brownie points, Eames."

She smiled, wondering at his good mood. "Yes, he is."

Goren's smile faded a little as he let go of some of his amusement. "Any man who can put a smile like that on your face has to be all right."

She felt her face flush. "Shut up, Goren," she muttered.

He laughed, groaning at the pain and closing his eyes. She smacked his leg lightly. "Serves you right." She leaned over to look at his face when he didn't respond. "Are you okay?"

He nodded and finally opened his eyes. "I'm fine. Getting used to the pain actually."

She didn't believe him; his eyes were bright with pain. "Is it getting any better?"

"Some. Not fast enough, though. I'm more than ready to get back to work."

"Believe me, I'm more than willing to have you back...but not before you're ready for it, Bobby."

"Yeah, yeah, I know," he grumbled impatiently.

"Are you that anxious to get away from Barb?"

"What?" Away from her? Hell, no...but there were _other_ reasons he wanted to be better... "No. I just...want to get back to work. I'm bored."

"The curse of being a genius. Normal mortals like me are more easily entertained."

He smiled. "There's nothing normal about you, Eames."

"Watch it, you. I still owe you one for letting yourself get shot and scaring the shit out of me like you did."

"I didn't do it on purpose."

"And that's your saving grace...that and the fact that I miss my morning coffee and danish."

"I'll mention that to Teddy."

"Don't you dare. He already does enough for me."

He leaned back into the couch, closed his eyes and rubbed his forehead. Softly, he said, "I like this guy more and more, Eames."

She watched him for a moment before she smiled and answered, "So do I, Bobby...just like I keep finding more reasons to like Barb."

He raised an eyelid and looked at her. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Just what I said. I like Barb."

"And what does that have to do with me liking your boyfriend?"

"You're a bonehead, do you know that?"

"So you've told me. Are you going to answer me?"

"No. I'm not."

He closed his eye again. "I didn't think so."

She decided the smartest thing for her to do would be to keep quiet. So she picked up the remote and turned on the television. He smiled to himself when he heard Bogart's voice, and he let his mind wander. He wasn't at all surprised when it wandered to Barb...


	18. Morning Desire With Complications

After dinner Sunday night, she put in a movie and eased herself onto the couch beside him. "What are we watching?" he asked.

"_Heart and Souls_. I must admit, I'm impressed by the diverse selection of movies you have. Surprised, in fact."

He laughed softly. "Blame my partner. A lot of those movies are for her."

"Let me guess. You let her choose what you watch."

"Usually. It doesn't matter to me what we watch."

"That's why you let me choose the movie."

He leaned forward to catch her eye. "It's a small matter to keep my girls happy," he smiled, eyes bright.

Without hesitation, she gently kissed him. Her fingers lightly traced his jaw, and then she pulled back, settling beside him. He slowly let out his breath and slid his arm around her. He could care less what movie she'd chosen. Having her close to him like this, cuddled against his side... What more could he ask for?

He placed a gentle kiss against the side of her head and tightened his arm around her. Closing his eyes, he left a slow trail of soft kisses along her face until he arrived at her mouth, which was curved into a small smile of anticipation. She welcomed his kiss and, when she didn't pull back, he deepened it. His fingers played with her shirt and he had half her buttons opened...and there was a knock at the door. He groaned softly and leaned back into the couch as Barb stopped the movie and got up, buttoning her shirt on the way to the door.

In the time it took her to walk to the door he managed to fight down the desire that he'd been struggling with, on and off, since he woke up in the hospital in her care. Eames came into the apartment, followed by a trim, well built man that had to be Teddy. He got up from the couch and stepped around the coffee table. Eames smiled at him. "You look good tonight, Bobby. How are you feeling?"

"I'm all right."

His eyes strayed past her and she grinned. "This is Teddy. Teddy, this is my partner, Bobby, and his friend Barb."

Goren raised his eyebrows at her choice of words to introduce Barb, and she gave him a look that challenged him to debate it. His mouth formed a small smile as he shifted his eyes back to Teddy and he shook the man's hand. He had a strong, firm grip and he didn't hesitate to meet Goren's eyes. _More brownie points..._

Teddy was about four inches shorter and maybe thirty pounds lighter than he was, and he was well-tanned and muscular. It was obvious he spent a great deal of time outdoors. His hair was sandy brown and wavy, not quite as curly as his own, and he had a well-trimmed moustache. Goren motioned for him to have a seat and returned to the couch while Teddy sat in one of the two easy chairs in the room. Eames grabbed Barb's arm and said, "Coffee."

Goren watched them hustle off into the kitchen and turned to Teddy with a grin. "I guess they want to talk."

Teddy laughed. "I'd call that a safe bet." He studied Goren with open, honest eyes. "Alex told me you were shot protecting a little boy."

Goren nodded. "She told me you're a foreman on a midtown construction project."

Teddy grinned. "There's never a shortage of work for me with all the development going on around the city."

"Unfortunately, there's no shortage of work for us, either."

"Any idea how much longer you'll be laid up?"

"Not really. A few more weeks, I guess. Why?"

Teddy was quiet for a moment as he considered how he should phrase his opinion. Finally deciding it best to be direct, he said, "Because I trust you to take care of Alex."

Goren studied him. "Thank you. I've always watched out for her, and I always will."

"I believe you. She thinks very highly of you, Bobby."

He smiled. "She says good things about you, too. I _am_ protective of her, and I feel good about you, Teddy. So far, I get the impression that _I_ can trust _you_ to take care of her when I'm not there."

"Count on it, man. Although, I have no doubt she can take care of herself."

"She can. That's why I don't let her know I'm looking out for her."

"Smart man."

There was a moment of silence, then Goren asked, "So...how was _Momma_ _Mia_?"

* * *

In the kitchen, Eames turned to Barb and said, "He never wants to worry me. Tell me the truth, Barb. How is he really doing?"

"Good. He's recovering his energy quickly. His lung is clearing well and the pain is slowly going away. He's frustrated because he isn't recovering quickly enough to suit him."

Eames laughed. "Nothing ever happens quickly enough to suit him."

"That's true."

Eames watched her take an open can of coffee from the cabinet and set up the coffee maker. "How is he with you?"

"Less on edge, less tense." She watched the coffee dribble into the pot. "He still wants there to be an us."

Eames leaned back against a counter and quietly said, "Are you willing to give it another try?"

"Yes."

She was pleased to hear that. "Would you mind if I gave you a little bit of advice?"

"Not at all."

"Did he tell you about his mom?"

"Yes."

That was a very good sign. He was letting her in. "Bobby's life has taught him to be skeptical of words that are not backed up by actions. Always show him how you feel, Barb. Never count on words alone to convey your feelings. He needs to see that you mean what you say. Words are empty, in his experience, unless there are actions to back them up."

Barb nodded in agreement. "That makes a world of sense. Don't worry; I won't let him doubt me."

Eames took down four cups from the cabinet above the coffee pot. "I don't think you'll ever have to question how he feels. He'll let you know he loves you." She smiled fondly. "Once you find your way in and he settles into knowing where you fit in his life, he'll have no trouble letting you know he wants you there."

The coffee finished brewing and Eames poured the hot liquid into the four cups. Barb got the milk from the refrigerator and the sugar from the far counter. Eames smiled at her as they prepared the four cups. "And you're not jealous of me," she added with confidence. "I think he'll appreciate that more than anything. He gets tired of fighting about his relationship with me, and it wears him down trying to convince people we're not sleeping together. I know how much I appreciate that Teddy's not jealous."

"Jealousy serves no purpose. It's his decision to be with me or not. I would never try to keep him in a relationship he didn't want to be in. It tore me apart to send him out of one he wanted...one we both wanted."

Eames nodded. "It tore him apart, too. I'm glad to see you're both trying to fix it. It's good to know he's finally healing, inside and out."

Barb just smiled and they headed into the living room with the coffee.

* * *

Barb was very pleased with the progress Bobby was making, and when she suggested they go for a walk, he was all for it. It was midday in the middle of the week, so there were no children to watch. That disappointed him; he liked the neighborhood kids. But he enjoyed listening to her point out the things she liked about his quiet neighborhood.

He was in a good mood, and she was pleased to see more of his energy returning. She remembered that energy, how difficult it was for him to sit still for long. Seeing him returning to normal, she only now realized how troubling it had been for her to watch him struggle to find the energy just to get through the day.

"So how far are you going to let me walk today?" he asked.

"We'll start by walking around the block."

"That's all?"

"I don't want you to overdo it. You're still healing."

He shrugged. "Whatever you say," he answered with a grin.

She laughed. "What does that mean?"

"What? I was just agreeing with you."

"No, you weren't." She laughed softly. "Alex is right. You are a bonehead."

It was his turn to laugh, and it wasn't so guarded. His pain was diminishing. He could laugh almost easily now and with care, deep breathing was almost pain-free. Coughing was another story, though, and it still caused him significant pain. She couldn't blame him for trying to avoid it, but she still had to encourage it. Coughing cleared his lungs better than anything else.

She looked at him, and he gave her a smile. He was happy and relaxed, and that was good to see. Perhaps now was a good time to broach a subject she had been puzzling over. "I've been thinking about something lately," she ventured.

He noticed her hesitancy and frowned. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing's wrong. Stop worrying. I just...Bobby, you remembered my cat's name."

He raised an eyebrow and looked at her. "I remember a lot of things."

"Like what?" she challenged.

He smiled. "Well, I remember that blue is your favorite color. You like your steak cooked medium and your potato baked with butter, sour cream, chives, bacon bits and more salt than is probably good for you."

She laughed, and he loved hearing it. She gently nudged him. "What else?"

He leaned closer and said, "You love red and yellow roses and carnations of any color, and you like my blue striped tie with my dark blue suit."

"I'm impressed."

He reached his hand toward her, brushing his fingers tentatively over hers. She turned her hand over and slid it into his. He smiled softly, raising her hand to his lips and softly kissing it.

_Give me another chance..._

* * *

She heard him begin to toss when the nightmare began. Getting up, she headed to his room, where she hesitated. She had always come in after he'd woken. She didn't hesitate for long, though, as the nightmare began to escalate. Approaching the bed, she sat lightly on the edge and gently laid one hand on his chest, smoothing his hair back with the other. Softly, she called his name...once, twice...and his restless thrashing eased. He groaned softly and slid his arm around her waist, but he didn't waken. She slid closer to his body and continued to smooth his hair back from his forehead. He turned fully onto his side in the middle of the bed and returned to a deep sleep. She waited a few minutes, then tried to slip from his arm and return to the couch. His arm tightened around her. After several attempts, it became apparent he wasn't going to let her leave, so she gave in and let him have his way for a little while. She laid down beside him. Tightening his arm snugly around her midsection, he nestled close and draped his other arm over her. Sighing softly into her hair, his body relaxed against hers. She kissed him gently and allowed herself to snuggle against him as she waited for a chance to slip from his embrace and return to the couch. Before she had the chance, though, she drifted off to sleep.

He woke to the comfort of a soft body nestled into his arms. He sighed and tightened his arms around her. Slowly, the sleep slid away from his brain and he softly groaned. "Barb..." he whispered softly into her ear.

She turned onto her back to look at him, reaching over to gently touch his cheek. "You had another nightmare," she explained quietly. "But this time, you didn't want me to leave, so I stayed."

His hand gently caressed her skin as he murmured, "Never leave..."

Leaning into her, he kissed her, drawing back memories for both of parting kisses that had promised much more. With another groan, he deepened the kiss, overwhelmed, not just by memories, but by dreams he had long suppressed. And the desire he'd once felt, that he'd been teased by over the last couple of weeks, hit him full force. A small voice at the back of his mind told him to back off, that he wasn't ready for this yet, but he easily ignored it when her fingers brushed across his waist, skirting the band of his sweats. When her tongue slid over his, the voice was silenced. The same voice had whispered to her, but when his hand slid under her shirt to cup her breast and a thumb made its way across her nipple, that voice was also silenced by a rising desire that washed over her like a tidal wave.

It became easy for him to ignore the fire in his chest because the rest of his body was on fire as well, but his breathing soon triggered an unwelcome bout of coughing that drew forth enough pain to smother his desire.

When he suddenly began coughing, she was drawn back rapidly from a world of pleasure into his world of pain. He turned onto his side with a deep groan and she held him against her, speaking softly to calm him. He coughed a few more times, and she could feel the rattle beneath the hand she rested on his back. "Easy," she whispered.

"It's okay," he groaned. "I'm sorry. That...wasn't the thing to do...was it?"

"Not at the moment, no. I should have stopped you."

He turned his head to look at her. "But you didn't."

She looked embarrassed. "Bobby...maybe I'm not the one who should be taking care of you right now..."

He frowned. "Why not?"

"If I can't control myself or use my judgment about what's best for you..."

He touched her lips with his finger. "You are what's best for me. Th-that was my fault. I knew I should have stopped...but I didn't want to. I-I promise I'll try to behave until I'm ready. Just...don't leave. I don't want another nurse, and I won't agree to one. The deal was for you to take care of me, and I'm going to hold you to it."

"You're stubborn," she accused lightly.

"I know I am," he answered. "That's why I'm here with you and not still in the hospital."

She smiled. "Just a little more healing. Soon, you'll be able to handle more."

He rested his head back against her shoulder as another series of coughs racked his body. Then he settled quietly beside her and draped his arm across her waist. His breathing eased and he quietly said, "I liked waking up with you. It's been...a long time."

She looked surprised. "Really? What about the girls Alex was teasing you about?"

He shook his head. "I never woke up with them. I always came home alone afterwards. It was never about...companionship. I just wanted to stop hurting and I couldn't find a way to make that happen. So I settled for...less."

"And now you're settling for...?"

He turned his head and kissed her. "Not settling," he murmured against her lips.

With another soft groan, he withdrew, but he let his hand continue to caress her well-toned stomach. She fingered his hair and said, "Let me get my stethoscope..."

His arms tightened around her. "No," he whispered. "Stay."

She sighed and stayed where she was, smoothing his hair back from his forehead. The feel of her skin against his fingers made him tremble. When he felt his desire begin to stir again, he kissed her softly and slipped from the bed. She watched him disappear into the bathroom and she left the bedroom.


	19. Love and Passion

She had spent the last four or five days watching with amusement as he trolled around the apartment, looking for something to do. They were closing on three weeks since he'd left the hospital and he'd suddenly turned the corner over the weekend. Now she had to watch him like a precocious toddler. He was always trying to push his limits, and twice he'd nearly pushed them too far. She had to threaten a trip back to the hospital to get him to slow down.

She had been very careful not to put him back in a compromising position. The last thing she wanted was any kind of setback in his recovery. He seemed to understand her caution and he accepted her decision to avoid most intimate contact. But it was difficult for both of them.

When he would sneak up on her and steal a kiss, it took every ounce of her will not to turn it into more. And when she came up behind him, sliding her arms around his waist to lightly tickle his stomach, it seemed like forever before he could fight down his desire to chase her down and show her what he felt for her.

Eames noticed a tension between them that was escalating, but she wasn't certain of the source. Remembering that Barb told her he was willing to give her another chance made her fear he might begin to resent Barb the way he tended to resent everyone who tried to find a place in his life. As far as she knew, her relationship with him was the closest he had ever let anyone get. But she was determined not to let him screw this up. She had a nagging feeling that this was right for him, and if he let her get away, he would never find a chance like this again. She loved him enough that she didn't want him to lose that. She couldn't bear to see him go through that again.

* * *

Saturday night she stopped by to visit before her date with Teddy. While Alex was there, Barb left to go to the gym as she usually did. She was satisfied that he was doing well enough that she could leave him alone while she went to work out, but she still preferred for Alex to be there, particularly since he was feeling better. He had trouble accepting his limitations.

Goren studied her after Barb left. "You're dressed up. You have a date tonight."

"Yes, but not until nine."

"And you're here?"

"Forgive me for missing you. I'll be so glad to have you back at work."

"I'll be glad to be there, believe me."

"Are you not getting along with Barb?"

He stared at her for a long minute before he smiled. "That was smooth, Eames."

"Thanks. I pay attention to your interrogation techniques. Now answer the question."

"We're getting along fine. Why?"

"I just get the feeling there's some tension between you."

He shook his head. "No. Everything's good."

She was quiet, studying her hands. He leaned forward to look at her face. "What is it?"

With a sigh, she said, "I feel very strongly about something, Bobby."

"What?"

She met his eyes. "I don't want to see you let her get away. I don't want you to go through that again. You were miserable, and I hated seeing you that way."

He leaned back into the couch and was quiet for a long moment. "Thank you, Alex," he said softly.

"For what? I didn't do anything."

He lifted his eyes to meet hers. "Thank you for caring that much."

"Yeah, well, the street runs two ways, Goren. I've never had a partner like you, and I've never had a friend like you. You're in a class by yourself, and I want you to know that I appreciate you. I want you to be happy, and Barb can make you happy. Don't let that chance get away from you."

Softly, he said, "I didn't let her get away the first time. She sent me away. I'm not going to stay someplace I'm not wanted, Eames."

"Is she still telling you to go?"

"Uh, no."

"So what are you going to do about it?"

He shifted nervously. "I don't have much of a choice."

"There are always choices."

He leaned forward and turned his head to look at her, meeting her eyes. "I-I'm in...in love with her, Eames. I always have been. Th-that's why I took it so hard...when she broke it off. Seeing her again, being around her..." Suddenly, unexpectedly overwhelmed, he closed his eyes and dropped his chin to his chest, taking a deep breath.

When she touched his shoulder, he looked up in surprise. "So what are you going to do about it?" she repeated softly.

He shrugged. "I'm going to give her another chance, since she's willing to give me one. We-we're going to try again."

She had been waiting to hear that from him, and she was happy that he was finally at a point where he felt he could tell her. He was so cautious when it came to his heart. She reached out and gently squeezed his hand. "I was waiting for that to happen," she said. "I knew you couldn't fight it for long."

"You...knew?"

"Yes. I know you, Bobby. I could always see what she meant to you. Just because I never knew you'd started to date her doesn't mean I never saw your attraction to her. Don't let her go. If you love her, don't let her slip away this time."

"Alex..."

"Trust me. Don't be a doormat, Goren."

"A doormat?"

"Yes, a doormat. If she ever tries to push you away again, don't let her. Some things are worth fighting for, you know."

"But if she doesn't want..."

"Shhh. Don't talk. You're just going to argue yourself into a hole. Listen to the bottom line and stop being obtuse. You love her. I happen to know she loves you, too. So if you want to keep her in your life, you do whatever you have to to make her stay. Don't let her go, Bobby. If she tries to push you away again and you fold, it's no one's fault but your own." She playfully smacked the back of his head. "You have a brilliant mind. Don't stop using it when your heart kicks in." She got up from the couch and headed into the kitchen. "You have any ice cream in here?"

"Uh, I don't know. Take a look." He leaned back and thought about what she'd said. "But what if..."

"Don't." She looked around the corner at him. "Don't even play that game. Just roll with the punches. Do not try to second guess a woman. I'd have thought you'd know that by now."

"I know not to try to second guess you."

"Okay. Expand that knowledge to include your girlfriend."

"My..." he trailed off. _Girlfriend_...he let the word tumble about in his head for a few minutes. When she sat back beside him with a bowl of ice cream, he looked at her. "All right, Eames. Thanks."

She smiled and offered him a bite. He shook his head with an amused smile. "So, have you slept with Teddy yet?"

She choked on her ice cream and hit him with a couch pillow. "Bite me, Goren."

He laughed, and it didn't hurt. He finally felt like he was on the road to recovery, and he felt good.

* * *

When Barb returned from the gym, Eames said good night. She leaned over to give Goren an affectionate kiss on the cheek and gave him another playful smack on the head. "Remember what I told you."

"I will. Have fun tonight."

"I'll behave if you do." She laughed at his expression. "Good night, Barb."

"Good night, Alex."

Once she was gone, Barb dropped onto the couch beside Goren and leaned her head against his shoulder. He moved his arm to embrace her, drawing her in against his side. "Uh, how's Brian?"

She turned her head to look at him. "Fine. How did you know I talked to him?"

"One reason you leave every night is so you can call him. You know, it's okay if you want to call him from here, or have him call you. I don't mind sharing you with your son. You can use the bedroom extension if you want privacy."

"It's not that. I just didn't want to upset you. After all, Brian is the reason I hurt you to begin with."

"And you think I hold it against him? Give me some credit here, Barb. I'm not an asshole. Not usually, anyway."

"That isn't what I meant. I wasn't sure how you felt."

"So ask. I'll tell you." He leaned over and placed a kiss in front of her ear. Lightly, he ran his lips over her cheek and she turned her face toward his, closing her eyes and welcoming his kiss. He turned toward her, slipping his hand under her shirt. She offered no resistance when he slid her shirt up over her head. Slowly she unbuttoned his shirt, tracing her hands along his sides as she moved to straddle his lap, continuing to kiss him deeply. He groaned as she shifted against him. "Don't," he moaned.

"Don't what?" she whispered.

"Don't tease."

"Who's teasing?" she answered as she unbuckled his belt and tickled his waist.

Then she was gone, taking with her the pressure and friction his body now craved. "Hey..."

Laughing, she back away from the couch as he got to his feet. His movements were easy; his natural grace had returned with his energy. There was no voice of caution in the back of her mind telling her to back off or take it easy. His healing was well underway, and now setbacks were unlikely. She continued to back away from him, laughing.

He advanced on her, eyes burning bright with the desire he'd been denying himself and confident he would no longer have difficulty handling the driving passion she aroused in him. When she turned and bolted for the bedroom, he took off after her, grabbing her around the waist just inside the bedroom door. She laughed and he gracefully turned and tumbled onto the bed, taking her with him. When she heard no groan of pain from him, she turned and kissed him, shifting her body against his once more in response to the rising fire inside her. There was no more thinking or second guessing for either of them as the heat of desire burst into flames of passion. It was deep in the night before they slept, sated and content, in each other's arms.


	20. Back to Work

"All right, Detective Goren. You can put your shirt back on."

With a sigh, he pulled his shirt on and buttoned it. He was sliding his tie under his collar when the doctor finished writing on the file in front of him and turned in his chair. "I'm satisfied. You have recovered very well. I'm going to clear you for duty." He tore off a form and handed it to him. "Next time, duck faster."

Goren laughed and took the form. "Thanks, doc."

He pulled on his jacket and slipped the form into his pocket. Leaving the exam room, he headed down the hall to the waiting room, tying his tie. Barb looked up from her magazine and set it aside. She got up and met him at the door, which he held open for her. "So what's the verdict?"

He patted the pocket where the form was. "Cleared for duty."

She stopped in the hallway and hugged him. "I can't tell you how happy I am to hear that!"

He slid his arms around her small frame and rested his chin against her head. "Not half as happy as my partner's going to be," he said with a soft chuckle.

"I don't doubt that."

They continued down the hall and he gently took her hand. "It's going to be lonely around the apartment without you there," he commented.

"My house will be just as lonely." She caressed his hand with her thumb. "Are you going to the squad now?"

"Yes...after I drop you back off at the hospital."

She had been back to work for just over a week, but she still spent her nights with him. There was no putting it off any more, though. She was going back home that evening after work. "Do you want me to take the subway over after work?"

"Of course not. I'll pick you up."

"Bring my stuff with you, and we'll go to my house for a late dinner."

They arrived at the elevators and he pushed the _down_ button. "Do you want me to pick up some take-out?"

"Chinese?"

"Whatever you want, baby."

"Suppose I want you?"

He looked at her and smiled, leaning closer to softly repeat, "Whatever you want, baby."

* * *

Eames turned the corner into the squad room from interrogation, muttering under her breath. Her anger quickly faded, however, at the sight of her partner, sitting at his desk, perusing the file folder that had been on her desk. She came up behind him and rested her hands on his shoulders, leaning down to ask, "What are you doing here?"

"I work here, remember?" he answered with a smile.

She walked around to her desk and sat down. "Seriously, what are you doing here? Bored since Barb went back to work?"

"Yes. I miss her. But that's not why I'm here. I just finished up with the departmental doctor. I've been cleared for duty."

"You wouldn't tease me like that, would you?"

He gave her a look of mock injury. "Eames, you know me better than that."

"Seriously? You're back now?"

"Seriously." He hesitated. "Barb's going back home tonight."

She studied him for some clue to how he felt about that, but his face was carefully guarded. So she asked, "How do you feel about it?"

He turned his eyes back to the file. "Uh, you want to fill me in on this case?"

"Bobby..."

He sighed and looked at her. "I'm not happy about it, okay? But that's the way it is."

"Did you talk to her about it?"

"Yes." He held up the folder. "The case?"

She just looked at him, waiting. He dropped the folder onto the desk and folded his hands on top of it. "We reached a decision about it. I...I'm not ready to live with anyone right now."

"You just spent seven weeks..."

"With a nurse, Eames. She was my nurse."

"You keep telling yourself that. When was the last time she slept on the couch?"

He shook his head. "It's just...different now."

"How?"

"Do we have to talk about this?"

"Of course not. We'll just go on and pretend everything is fine."

"Everything _is_ fine, Eames. When are you going to move in with Teddy?" he snapped.

"Last week, actually."

He froze and just stared at her. He blinked twice and opened his mouth to say something, but nothing came to mind. He turned his attention uncomfortably back to the file. It was none of his business...but there was one thing he had to know. He raised his eyes. "Are you happy, Alex?"

His use of her first name caught her off guard, as did his quiet tone. She met his dark eyes and saw sincerity. "Yes, Bobby," she said quietly. "I am. What about you?"

She watched his face as he seriously thought about her question. With Bobby, there was no such thing as a simple question or a simple answer. In his mind, thoughts of work and his partner flashed. That used to be the happiest part of his life, and it would always be challenging and stimulating. Work would always be a highlight of his life. But now, thinking about Barb, he realized it was entirely possible to find utter happiness elsewhere. "Um, I...I'm happier than I've ever been." He let out a soft sigh. "_Now_ will you tell me about the case?"

* * *

Arnie Dubek was angry as he faced his captain. "Why are you taking me off the case? It's my case as much as it is Eames'."

"I want Goren on it. It's as simple as that. You can help Sanchez and McNulty on that robbery case. They could use you. Goren and Eames don't need an extra hand."

"So he can just waltz back into the squad and take over, just like he always..."

"Are you sure you want to finish that statement, Dubek? First of all, the man was not on vacation. He was shot in the line of duty, and that counts for something. Second of all, Eames is his partner, not yours. And he has seniority over you, anyway. Third, are you questioning my decision?"

Dubek studied the captain's face and decided it wasn't worth it. There was no criticizing the captain's Golden Couple. All it would buy him was a ticket out of Major Case. "Fine. I'll help Sanchez and McNulty. Goren can have the case and Eames. I'm sick of her attitude anyway. She deserves him."

Deakins silently counted to ten. "Maybe you should shut up while you're behind. Leave Goren alone."

"Or what, Captain?"

The captain frowned. "You don't want to go there. Now get the hell out."

He'd already pissed off the captain. What did he have to lose? As he stormed from the office and headed toward the elevators, he felt the rage grow inside him. Take him off his case and move him around as if he didn't matter...well...he'd see about that...

Goren and Eames were at their desks, and he had to pass them on his way out. He couldn't let that opportunity pass. He studied them as he approached. Goren had moved his chair around to Eames' desk and they were bent over a file in front of them, oblivious to everything around them, concentrating only on each other...nothing new there...

"Hey, Eames..." He stopped beside her desk. "I guess we're done as partners."

Eames looked up from where she was reviewing the case with her partner and studied him. "Are you surprised, Arnie? You knew it was temporary. My partner's back and you can move on."

"How generous. I guess you can go back to..."

Goren got to his feet, turning to face the other detective. He'd spent nearly three months listening to how much of a hard time Dubek had given Eames, and he decided enough was enough. "Bobby, no!"

Eames jumped up and came around him, stopping between them and planting her hands in the middle of her partner's broad chest. He shifted his eyes toward her, and Dubek took advantage of his distraction. Ignoring the woman between them, Dubek swung, landing a solid right to Goren's jaw, then a left to his eye as his knees buckled and he started to go down. As her partner hit her desk, she turned and slammed her knee into Dubek's groin, dropping him like a stone as other members of the squad came running. One detective grabbed Goren before he slid to the floor, easing him into Eames' chair. Two other detectives grabbed Dubek and held him fast while a third snagged Eames and restrained her. Deakins came running from his office.

"What the hell is going on here?" he growled, glaring at the two restrained detectives.

His eyes shifted to Goren as he muttered to Sandoval and heaved himself out of Eames' chair. He spoke to Sanchez, who held Eames, and the other detective released her. Goren's hand came to rest on her shoulder, and she stepped away from Dubek, shrugging off her partner and heading out of the squad room. Goren went after her.

"Who's going to talk?" Deakins demanded.

Sandoval spoke up. "Dubek lost his head, Captain."

Dubek was recovering from Eames' blow. "She hit me!" he complained.

Several pairs of eyes focused on him. Sanchez was the first to speak, and his voice was angry. "You hit her partner. What the hell did you expect her to do? I'd have hit you, too, if you'd punched my partner without provocation."

Carruthers shook his head. "What the hell's your malfunction, Arnie? The guy was almost killed and you attack him on his first day back? What did he ever do to you?"

Deakins drew several deep breaths, then said, "I won't ask again, gentlemen. What happened?"

Sandoval answered, "Arnie started to toss out an insinuation at Eames and Goren took offense to it. I don't know what he was going to do, but Eames had him under control until Arnie hit him. Goren actually didn't do anything but stand up and face him."

"He was going to hit me," Dubek protested.

Sanchez started laughing. "You're the first guy I know who thinks he can read Goren's mind. Newsflash, stupid: Eames is the only one who can do that. I've never known Goren to start a fight. He's a lot of things, but a hothead isn't one of them."

Several good-natured chuckles followed by murmurs of agreement further infuriated Dubek. Deakins motioned for the detectives to settle down. "Back to work, boys. Dubek, my office now."

* * *

Goren was too late to stop his partner before she disappeared into the ladies room, so he leaned against the wall next to the door and waited. The throbbing in his head was beginning to subside, but he could feel his eye beginning to swell. "Shit," he grumbled, leaning his head back against the wall and closing his eyes.

He knew Dubek was an ass; the guy had never liked him. But he didn't get why he'd swung. He wouldn't have hit the little son of a bitch. He simply intended to warn him off Eames. "Bobby?"

He opened his eyes and looked at the captain. "I didn't hit him."

"I know that. You had plenty of witnesses. Where's Eames?" Goren nodded his head toward the restroom door. "Are you all right?"

"Fine. Just pissed as hell."

"It's been handled. Dubek's been suspended. When he comes off suspension, he's going to find himself walking a beat. Are you sure you're all right?"

"Positive. Uh, Eames isn't in trouble, is she?"

"I have to talk to her, but no. Dropped him like a rock, did she?"

Goren smiled. "No one messes with my partner. She can handle herself."

"If you want to take the rest of the day off..."

Goren tipped his head to the left and gave the captain an odd look. "Don't you think I've had enough time off, Captain?"

Deakins smiled. "Suit yourself. Get some ice on that eye and tell Eames I want to see her when she's ready."

"I will."

A few minutes after the captain left, Sanchez approached him. He held out an ice pack. "Thought you could use this."

"Thanks."

"Look, Goren...what Dubek said, or started to say...I'm sure you know where he was going with that. Did Eames tell you anything about what went on while you were laid up?"

"Some, but I doubt she told me the whole story."

"Yeah, well, Arnie's an asshole. He never crossed the line, but he sure stepped on it a few times. Never came right out and accused her of anything, but he laid on some heavy insinuations. A couple of us told him to back off. Eames gets along with everyone, but she had a hard time working with him. I'm sure if the cap knew he'd have acted long ago, but I guess she never said anything to him, either."

"She told me she was ready to strangle the guy."

"She was," he laughed. "She missed you, Goren. Anyway, we're glad you're back."

He turned and walked off. "Thanks," Goren said before he left earshot. Sanchez waved a hand and kept walking.

Goren turned toward the ladies' room as the door opened. Eames came out, her face still tight with anger but composed. Goren leaned over to catch her eye. "Are you all right?"

She reached out and touched his temple next to his bruised eye. "Shouldn't I be asking you that?"

"Just a bruise. I've had worse."

She started laughing and he smiled. Shaking her head, she said, "You're a piece of work, Goren."

"Thanks, I think. Captain wants to see you."

"Do you think you can sit at your desk and stay out of trouble while I talk to him?"

"I'll try," he said with a grin.

As they headed back into the squad room, she said, "If you ever pull this on me again, I'm telling Deakins to partner me with Sandoval or one of the other guys I know. I'm not playing this crap shoot game any more. Of course, this will be after I read you the riot act for getting hurt." She poked his side. "You have Barb now. No reason for going and getting yourself shot any more."

He dropped down into his chair with a smile as she headed on to Deakins' office.

* * *

Barb got into the car and started to lean toward him, stopping when she saw the bruises on his face. "What happened?"

"Minor disagreement."

She touched the bruise that covered a third of his jaw, tracing her fingers along his chin and up to his eye. He leaned in and kissed her. She asked, "Who hit you?"

"The bane of my partner's existence over the last two-and-a-half months."

Her hand strayed down to his chest. "You didn't get hurt, did you?"

"Just a few bruises." He nodded toward the bag of take out in the back seat. "I got chicken and vegetables, fried rice and shrimp toast."

"Great. I'm starving. Are you sure you're all right?"

His eyes darkened. "Let's get going and you can take a look for yourself."

She smiled and gave him another kiss. "Let's go, then," she whispered softly.

He closed his eyes for a moment, then shifted into drive and pulled away from the curb.

* * *

Barb was laughing, and he was enjoying the sound too much to even think about being irritated. "She did what?"

He smiled. "You heard me. He dropped like a rock. Now you know why I try to avoid pissing off my partner."

"She's priceless, Bobby."

"To me she is. And so are you."

She finished the last of her dinner and drained her wineglass. Rising from her chair, she carried her dishes into the kitchen. Returning to the dining room, she stepped up behind him. She slid her arms around him and began kissing his neck. He closed his eyes and shuddered. Her hands slid down the front of his shirt and she nuzzled his ear, nipping his earlobe and breathing softly into his ear. With a groan, he turned to her, finding her mouth with his and pulling her down onto his lap. Her arms encircled his neck and she melted into him. With no effort, he lifted her in his arms and carried her to the living room, gently lowering her onto the couch. His tie was left on the dining room floor and his shirt was untucked and open. He slid her shirt up over her head and leaned down to nuzzle her. With a groan, she undid his belt and his pants...and they drew each other beyond the edge of ecstasy.

The room was dark except for the glow of the television. He was laying in the corner of the couch with his feet up on the coffee table. Leaning against him, her legs stretched out on the couch, Barb slept peacefully with his arms around her. His hand lightly stroked her abdomen as he watched a reenactment of Hannibal's journey across the Alps on the History Channel. He was happily content, and he wondered at the feeling. For the first time in his life, his work life and his personal life were as close to perfect as he'd ever known. Unfortunately, it wouldn't last.


	21. Contentment

Eames always knew when Barb had a day off. On the days she worked, Bobby was always at his desk by the time she got there and he never left before she did. But when she was off, he was barely half an hour early and as the end of the day drew near, his restlessness increased. He was out the door as soon as he could get away. It was a source of unending amusement for her to tease him, and he let her. But as much as it amused her to tease him, it warmed her heart to see him happy. And there was no doubt in her mind that her gentle partner was happy.

* * *

It was Wednesday afternoon when Eames came back from lunch with Teddy to find Goren on the phone. She assumed it had something to do with the case they'd wrapped up on Monday until she sat down and caught the tail end of his call. "Flowers? What's the occasion?" she asked as he hung up the phone. 

He opened a folder on his desk and answered, "No occasion. Today's her day off, and I wanted her to know I'm thinking of her, that's all."

She studied him for a moment. "You're something else, do you know that?"

"Why? What's wrong with sending her flowers?"

"Not a thing. It's very thoughtful, and I'm sure she'll love them."

He returned his attention to the file without answering. She laughed softly at his light flush and flipped open a file folder from her pile of their shared paperwork and picked up a pen.

* * *

A few hours later, he straightened the stack of completed folders. Eames looked up in mock surprise. "Finished your paperwork?" 

"Yes. Uh, do you mind if I take off?"

"Hot date?"

"Come on, Eames..."

She waved him off with an affectionate smile. "Go on, Romeo. See you in the morning." She laughed as he muttered 'thanks' on his way to the elevator. "Tell Barb I said hello."

He waved a hand as he left the squad room. She watched as he jabbed the down button and waited impatiently for a few moments. She laughed again when he hit the stairwell.

* * *

Barb opened the door with a smile as he mounted the porch steps. "Don't you look nice," she commented. 

He leaned over and kissed her. "You always look nice," he muttered into her ear.

"Dinner's almost ready," she said as she slid her arms around his neck and kissed him deeply. "Thank you for the flowers."

"You're welcome," he breathed when she stepped back.

"Come on," she said, walking down the short hallway and turning into the living room. He hesitated for a moment, ensuring himself a good view before he followed her. "Uh, what did you make for dinner?"

"Chicken cutlets, mashed potatoes, green beans and rolls."

He sat down on the couch and watched her disappear into the kitchen, sighing. Time passed quickly, and yet his passion for her only grew. He leaned back and looked around the room. It was a large room, with a stone fireplace against the inner wall. A nice fire was built up in the fireplace, giving the room a cozy feeling. A fire in mid-September didn't phase him. It was the ones she built up in July and August that made him laugh. Of course, he wasn't laughing for too long once he discovered what a cozy fire put her in the mood for.

The overhead lights were off. Two table lamps, one on either side of the couch, and two floor lamps set diagonally on opposite sides of the room, lent to the warm glow of the room. The floor was a rich polished wood and the walls were painted a warm beige. This was probably his favorite room in the entire house, with her bedroom following a close second.

Her parents had left the house to her, and it had been in the family for generations. She was hoping Brian would one day come back to New York so she could pass it on to him. His eyes strayed unconsciously to the mantel, where several framed pictures of her son sat. He was a handsome boy, and he looked forward to meeting him. He'd spoken to him many times on the phone, and they'd developed a rapport. He liked Brian a lot. He loved his mother dearly and his first concern was for her well-being. He made it very clear that he trusted Bobby to take good care of her.

He got up and walked through the dining room, also painted beige and accented by rich wood. He smiled at the flowers on the table. He stopped in the kitchen doorway and leaned casually against the doorframe. "Need help?"

She smiled. "Set the table."

He gave her a small bow, and she threw a roll at him with a laugh. He caught it easily and took a bite, laughing softly as he turned back into the dining room. Taking two plates from the china cabinet and two sets of silverware from the drawer, he set the table, adding two wine glasses when he saw the bottle chilling on the sideboard. He lit the candles in the center of the table and returned to the kitchen doorway. "Mission accomplished," he announced with a smile.

She handed him a serving bowl of potatoes and kissed him. He sighed when she stepped away and took half a moment to recover before he set the bowl on the table. She added a plate with the chicken on it and another bowl with green beans. He retrieved the basket of rolls and the butter.

She watched him open the wine and pour it into their glasses, then sit down. "So, what did you do today?" he asked.

"Not a thing," she said with a big smile. "It was great. What about you?"

"We just finished the paperwork on the case we closed Monday. It was an easy day. That's how I got off before six."

"Lucky for me."

His eyes glowed in the candlelight. "I'm the lucky one."

* * *

After dinner, they took their wine glasses to the living room. He added a couple of logs to the fire and stoked it. She came up behind him and gently tickled his neck. He shuddered and stood, turning toward her. Pulling her into his arms, he kissed her. She pressed her body into his and backed him toward the couch as she pushed his jacket off his shoulders. He let it slide to the floor as she went to work on his tie...then his shirt... 

"Uh, Barb..."

"Shhh. Stop thinking, Bobby."

She kissed him again as her hands slid along the skin above his belt and she pushed him onto the couch. He groaned deeply and went to work on her blouse.

_Stop thinking..._

She made that easy for him to do. Easing herself onto her knees beside him, she pushed his shirt open and began kissing his neck. Slowly, she undid his belt and he groaned as he slipped her shirt off her shoulders, fingers brushing over bare flesh.

He didn't hear the phone ring until she drew back from him. "Phone, Bobby," she managed.

"What? Oh...damn..."

He grabbed his jacket from the floor and fumbled to pull the phone out of its pocket. He snapped it open. "Goren."

Barb gently pushed against him and he yielded, leaning back into the couch cushions. She playfully placed a series of light kisses over his chest, effectively interfering with his ability to listen to his partner. _Bobby!_

"Hmm? Oh, Eames...sorry...what did you say?"

_We have a case._

"A case...oh, shit...uh..."

When she stuck her tongue in his ear, he dropped the phone. She laughed softly and whispered, "Phone."

"What? Phone...oh..." He picked it up. "Eames?"

Her voice was rife with amusement. _Anytime you're ready, partner._

"S-sorry."

_Where are you?_

She was at it again with her hands and her tongue, and she was laughing. "Uh, what?"

_Where are you, for Pete's sake..._

"Oh, um, at Barb's."

_Okay, I'll be there in twenty minutes._

"Okay, Eames..." He closed the phone. "I...I have to go, baby."

She didn't stop. "Right now?"

"Well, no...but Eames will be here soon."

"Do you have time to finish what we started?"

She had undone his pants and continued to tease him with her fingers and her mouth. He groaned deeply, drawing her into his body and kissing her. She didn't need any more of an answer.

* * *

Eames watched him come out of the house, jacket draped over his arm, portfolio in one hand, tie in the other. He got into the car and slid his tie under his collar. She pulled away from the curb as he asked, "What do we have?" 

"You first," she answered, unable to hide her amusement.

"Me first what?"

"I want to hear your story first. I know it has to be more interesting than my boring old homicide."

"What are you talking about?"

"Come on, Bobby," she teased. "I know you can be ready in less than ten minutes. You've had a half hour and you're coming out half-dressed. I want to hear about it."

"You...uh, I..." He recovered his bearings. "No. Now what do we have?"

She laughed. "How's Barb?"

"Eames..."

"Oh, all right. Some poor soul pulled a body out of the river on Ward's Island at Hell Gate. Apparently, he thought it was something else, and when he realized what it was, he had a heart attack. They took him to North General, but I haven't heard anything about his condition yet."

He finished with his tie, straightening it. "What do we know about the victim?"

"Nothing yet."

He turned to look out the window, and she knew he was regaining his composure and preparing himself for a crime scene investigation. By the time they got to the scene, he would be ready. She left him alone.

* * *

They arrived just before the crime scene techs did. The local uniforms who responded to the scene did a good job of securing it, and the detectives snapped on their gloves as they approached the body. Eames watched her partner circle the body, studying it with a practiced eye. He dropped to a knee beside the head and gently turned it so he could see the back of it. "Single gunshot to the back of the head, execution-style." He pulled up an arm. "Ligature marks on the wrists." He continued toward the legs. "Dirt on the knees." 

He looked up at his partner. She was shaking her head slowly. "An execution?"

"That's what it looks like."

"Mob?"

"Too early to say. Let's see what ballistics turns up." He turned his attention toward the closest officer. "Any ID on the body?"

"No, sir."

He picked up the dead man's hand and examined his fingers. "Uh, fingerprints were burned off. Acid burns. Someone doesn't want us to know who this is."

"What are the chances this was done with a throw-away firearm that is now resting at the bottom of the river?"

"Pretty damn good, I'd guess."

Squatting beside the body, arms resting on his knees, he studied the dead man. She watched him for a minute, then headed toward the river at the point where the body had been pulled out of the water. The CSU team had arrived and they were setting up their lights and equipment along the perimeter of the scene. Something in the mud caught her eye. Squatting beside the drag marks at the water's edge, she pulled a chain from the mud. A set of dog tags were attached to it, but she couldn't make out the details that were stamped into them. "Bobby?"

He looked up. "What'd you find?"

"A set of dog tags beside the drag marks, but they're not readable."

He stood up and walked to her, pulling an evidence bag from his pocket. She dropped the dog tags into the bag and he sealed it, handing it to her. She pulled out a marker and labeled it as he wandered back to the body. She handed the bag to a nearby tech and walked over to join him.

The medical examiner had arrived and Goren had her cornered by the body. She stepped up to her partner's side. Rodgers nodded at her. "Hello, Detective Eames."

"Hello, Dr. Rodgers. I see my partner's already got your ear."

"The day I show up at a homicide and he doesn't, I'll be checking the ambient temperature in hell."

Eames laughed. "Are we done here yet, Goren?"

He nodded. "I am if you are."

Rodgers headed toward the body. "As soon as I know," she said over her shoulder before he could ask the question.

He laughed. "Thanks, doc."

They headed for the car. "So," Eames said. "It's not quite midnight. Are we going to the squad or are we calling it a night?"

"Not much we can do until the ME's done. No point in going in to the squad now. It can wait till morning."

"I thought you might say that. So where am I dropping you off?"

He stepped around to the passenger side and looked at her over the hood. "Same place you picked me up."

"Won't she be in bed?"

"I have a key." She raised her eyebrows. "Don't give me that," he said with a sly smile. "If I want, I can sleep in an empty bed. You don't have that option."

"Why would I want it? And for that matter, why would you?"

He slid into the car. "I never said I did. I was just pointing out that I have the option."

"Is that why you haven't moved in with her yet? You want an option?"

He fell silent. She looked over at him and groaned. "I didn't mean to make you think, Goren. It's really not any of my business."

"I-I don't know, Eames. I'm just...not ready."

She started the car and pulled away from the scene. "Bobby...you need to quit thinking about this and just go with your heart. I understand your reluctance to do this. It's a huge step for you. But don't overthink it, all right?"

He remained silent, looking out the window into the night. She sighed. "Does she have a key to your apartment?"

"Of course. So do you."

"We're not talking about me, bonehead."

"Look, Eames, can we just drop it for now?"

"One more question."

"What?"

"After I drop you off tonight, are you going to go back to your place to sleep?"

"No."

"Good."

When she pulled up to Barb's house, she slid the car into park and reached over to grab his arm. "It's a good thing, Bobby, what you have here. I've never seen you so... content with your life. She's the best thing that ever happened to you."

He nodded. "I know she is." He met her eyes. "I feel that way about Teddy, too. He makes you happy, and he's good to you. That makes him all right in my book." He leaned over and kissed her cheek. "Good night, Alex."

"Good night, Bobby."

She watched him head up the walk, onto the porch and into the house. Looking up at the house, she saw one light lit on the second floor and she smiled when it went out. Shifting into drive, she pulled away from the curb and headed home, to her own warm bed and the even warmer welcome that waited in it.


	22. Unraveling

Eames arrived early the next morning, not surprised to find him there, already buried in a file. She looked into the bag on her desk. "Cherry," she said with a smile. She nodded her head at the file he was looking through. "Anything good?"

"Not yet. Ballistics isn't done and they're having troubled cleaning up the dog tags. Seems like the same acid they used on his fingers also did a number on the dog tags."

"You still think it's mob related?"

"That's what my gut is telling me."

"Let's go with it, then. Have they gotten _anywhere_ with the dog tags?"

"So far, just a first name...Lonnie. They're still plucking away at it."

With a nod, she reached forward and snagged the crime scene summary from his folder. She hated preliminaries almost as much as he did...

* * *

Goren rubbed his forehead and groaned. Barb sat down on the couch beside him. It was 10:30 on Sunday night and he'd only showed up forty-five minutes ago, after spending the entire day chasing down dead-end leads. After a quick dinner, he began going through his portfolio. She ran a hand through his hair and he smiled at her, leaning over to give her a kiss. "We got a bunch of reports in this afternoon but I really didn't want to spend the night in the squad room. It's much nicer here."

"Where's Alex? You usually meet her at your apartment when you have evidence to review."

"We'll go over it tomorrow. I...I wanted to be here."

She kissed him warmly. "Call her, baby. Have her come over here and you guys can go over your reports. If she wants to stay, she can sleep in the guest room. I'll wait for you."

"It will be late."

"You know how to wake me up."

"Don't you have to be in at seven?"

She leaned into him and kissed him again, lingering. "You'd better wake me up, mister."

He laughed softly and hugged her. "I love you," he said.

"I love you, too. Now call Alex and I'll expect you sometime before dawn."

He watched her leave the room and he softly groaned. Then he pulled out his phone and called his partner.

* * *

Eames leaned back in the recliner, stretched and rubbed her eyes. Then she pulled out a page from the stack in front of her and reviewed, "Lonnie Burquardt. Twenty-eight years old and a buddy of Carlo Gambisi's youngest son Rico. Whoever thinks Lonnie pissed off Rico raise their hand."

Goren was laying on the couch with the ballistics report. "They sent divers into the river to look for the weapon..."

"An unmitigated waste of time."

"Agreed. But it was a cop's gun that killed him, Eames."

"So are we thinking killer cop, bought cop or careless cop?"

"Or dead cop..."

"That, too. Hopefully they'll match the ballistics to a specific weapon and we'll find out which officer misplaced his weapon."

"And then we have the poor guy who pulled Lonnie out of the river. He died this morning, so we can pin an additional manslaughter charge on the guy who killed our vic."

"You got a headache yet?"

"There's aspirin in the medicine cabinet in the bathroom at the end of the hall."

She studied him in silence. He tipped his head up to look at her. "What?"

"You're very at home here."

"Go get your aspirin, Eames."

* * *

It was 3:30 when she called Teddy to let him know she wouldn't be home. Reassured that she was still with her partner at Barb's and everything was all right, he said good night and told her he loved her. Goren showed her to the guest room and made certain she was comfortable. She poked him in the chest. "Call Deakins and tell him we're coming in late. I want credit for this all nighter."

He walked to the door and turned to look at her. "I'll tell him. Good night, Eames."

She smiled. "Good night, Bobby."

He headed down the hall and quietly entered the master bedroom. He got ready for bed and slid in beside Barb. She turned over and snuggled into his arms. "What time is it?"

"Uh, almost four."

"Get anything accomplished?"

"We both got headaches from it."

She laughed. "Did Alex stay?"

"Yes."

"Good. Now let's see what we can do about this headache of yours."

* * *

Their case was stalled. Ballistics had so far drawn a blank on the weapon because of the mangled condition of the bullet. It came close to matching almost 300 weapons. They were waiting for more tests on the river water the ME had managed to extract from the victim, hoping to be able to narrow down where the victim went into the water.

But there was something else wrong with Goren, and it unsettled Eames. For the past few days he had been distracted and irritable, and she sensed it wasn't just because their case was stalled.

By Friday she had finally had enough and she dragged him into a conference room. "What the hell is wrong with you?"

"What do you mean?"

"Come off it, Bobby. You've been an ass all week, and to be honest with you, I'm tired of it. If you're not getting any at home, don't come in here and take it out on me."

"Not getting...what the hell are you talking about?"

She smacked the back of his head. "Did that kickstart your brain?"

With a frown he rubbed the back of his head. "That wasn't necessary."

"Yes, it was. I've been wanting to do that all week."

With a frustrated groan, he dropped into a chair. "I-I'm sorry, Eames. I don't know what the problem is. I...I can't think of anything I've done wrong...but Barb has been...remote...and I..." He waved his hands wearily. "Ah, forget it. I'll work it out."

"What happened?"

"Nothing. At least, nothing I'm aware of. Since Monday night she's just been...withdrawn...and I can't figure out why. I don't think I did anything..."

"Here's a novel idea, Goren. Talk to her. Ask her what's wrong. Maybe it's something that happened at work. Quit driving yourself nuts trying to remember something you may not have done."

She watched him pinch the bridge of his nose and she leaned over, speaking softly. "I'm serious, Bobby. Talk to her or I swear I'll smack you again."

He waved a hand again but didn't look up. "I'll talk to her tonight, Eames."

"I'll call you later."

"I can't wait."

She smacked him again. "Don't be any more of an ass than you already have been. I'm going home."

"Have a good weekend." As she opened the door, he called to her. She turned and looked at him. "I'm sorry, Alex," he said quietly.

She gave him a warm smile. "Forget it. Just talk to her, all right?"

He nodded and waved a hand at her. She closed the door behind her and returned to her desk, getting her things together. When she left for the weekend, he was still sitting in the conference room with his head propped on his hand.

* * *

He paced the porch in the twilight, waiting for her to answer the door. It was driving him crazy, not knowing where he stood with her at the moment, and that prevented him from using his key. He walked over to the side of the porch and leaned both hands on the railing, hanging his head and looking down at the side garden where her beloved rose bushes spread from the front yard to the back yard.

Opening the door and not seeing anyone there, she poked her head out and looked at him. "Bobby?"

He turned and smiled tentatively. "Hi."

She stepped out onto the porch and walked to stand beside him, looking down at the rose bushes. Even though it was late summer, they were still covered with open blooms and buds in every stage of blossom. He leaned closer, gently nuzzling her ear. When she didn't pull away, he whispered, "Beautiful. And I don't mean the roses."

She closed her eyes and turned into his arms, hugging him. She held on for a long moment. "Come inside," she said quietly.

He frowned. She sounded upset, and he couldn't figure out how telling her she was beautiful would upset her. He followed her into the house and took off his suit jacket, draping it over the back of the couch. She sat down on the couch and watched him as he leaned against the mantel, looking into the cold fireplace. Finally, he said, "Can we talk, Barb?"

She looked concerned. "Of course. What's wrong?"

He sighed and looked defeated. "That's what I want to know. D-did I do something wrong?"

Now she looked puzzled. "What are you talking about?"

"You...you've been acting like I've done something wrong, but I can't figure out what."

"Oh, Bobby..." She got up and went to him, sliding her arms around his waist to hug him. "You always have to take the world on your shoulders. It's not always your fault."

He held her close and whispered, "It would help if I knew what _it_ was."

"No, it wouldn't." She stepped away from him and returned to the couch. "Believe me, it wouldn't."

"Barb..."

"Just let it go, Bobby. I'm sorry I've been difficult lately. I have a lot on my mind and if I've taken it out on you, forgive me."

"Maybe if you let me know..."

"Drop it. Please. Just _listen_ to me! I'm not..." She raised her hands and shook her head, fighting tears. "I'm not ready..." Her voice was barely a whisper.

For the life of him, he couldn't figure out how the conversation had deteriorated like it had, but this was killing him. He'd had enough. "Look, Barb...I'll do whatever you want me to do. If you want me to leave, just say so and I'll go home. But I have to be fair to you and warn you." He studied his hands, refusing to look at her as he leaned back against the wall beside the fireplace. He struggled to speak his next words. "If you shut me out again and ask me to step away, I...I won't be back. I-I love you very much, and that means a lot to me. But if it doesn't mean anything to you, I'm wasting my time. I don't know what has changed, but...it's driving me nuts."

"Oh, Bobby..." She trailed off and remained quiet for a very long time. Finally, she looked at him, and there were tears in her eyes. "The last thing in the world I want is for you to leave...because I really do love you and...and I need you. I don't _ever_ want you to leave. But before you decide that's what you want, I need to be fair to _you_. I should have told you this when I found out, but...I couldn't. It's something I have to come to terms with, and I am trying." She paused and looked away. "Brian is coming home next month, but he won't be staying long. He..." She stopped and took an uneven breath. "He has the same cancer that killed his father, Bobby. He's coming home...to...to die. So if you think you can handle being around me while I lose my son, be my guest."

He was stunned and his mind shut down. He struggled to get it working again. What was the right move here? He wasn't going anywhere; he didn't even have to think about that. But what should he do? Leave her alone or pull her close? In the end, after a brief debate with himself, he went with his gut and crossed over to her. He dropped down onto the couch beside her and drew her into his arms. She buried her face in his shoulder and cried. He'd made the right choice.

* * *

Barb had been sleeping for several hours and he was sitting in the living room. He'd held her for a long time and then he took her upstairs to her bed. Once she was asleep, he returned to the living room to think. Now there was a half empty bottle of scotch on the table in front of him and a full tumbler in his hand. He had ignored two calls from his partner so far. But that wasn't being entirely fair to her, so he answered the next time she called. It was 11:30.

"Hey."

_Why didn't you pick up before?_

"I...I just couldn't."

_Busy?_

"No."

_You're still upset. Didn't you talk to her?_

"Yes, I talked to her. I, uh, I didn't do anything. She's not mad at me." **_On the contrary..._**

_Then what's wrong? You should feel relieved._

"I'm not. Uh, remember how she felt when Brian moved away?"

_I remember that was when she sent you away._

"She's not going to make that mistake again, and I'm glad for that."

_If you don't tell me what's wrong, I'm coming over there._

"Uh...Brian..." He took a deep breath and a long drink. "He...he's dying, Alex. He's getting things in order in Chicago, and then he's...he's coming home...to die."

Her stunned silence was almost palpable._ Oh, my God, Bobby..._ she finally managed. _Is she...? Are you...?_ She trailed off.

"She's...not okay, and neither am I. But _we_ are, if that matters any right now."

_Of course it matters. And I'm glad you are. You need each other now. _She was quiet for a moment_. Promise me something?_

"What?"

_You know where we live. If you need us, Teddy and I are here. Call. Please._

He didn't answer right away. Finally, he said, "Teddy?"

_Yes, Teddy. He likes you both, and if you need us, we're both here for you. Got it?_

"Okay, I got it."

_Where is Barb now?_

"Sleeping."

_And what are you doing?_

"Nothing. Thinking." He shrugged. "I-I can't fix this, Alex."

_You can't fix the world, Bobby. All you can do is roll with the punches._

"I get tired of being punched, Alex."

_Then put your glass down, go up those stairs and hold her. That will do you more good than anything else will._

He closed his eyes; she knew him too damn well sometimes. "Thanks for listening. Good night, Alex."

_Bobby?_

"What?"

_Remember what I said._

"I'll remember. Good night."

_Good night._

He closed the phone and set it on the coffee table, next to the bottle. He drained his glass and took his partner's advice. He set the glass down and went upstairs. Stripping to his boxers and t-shirt, he slid beneath the blanket beside her, wrapping his arms around her and gently kissing her.

"I love you," he murmured into her hair before pulling her closer and drifting off to sleep.


	23. Lunch With Eames

The next morning, he woke alone. Rising, he showered, dressed and headed down the stairs. In the kitchen, beside an almost-full coffee pot, was a note, which read: _Gone to work. Alex called; call her. See you tonight. I love you, Barb._

He poured himself a cup of coffee and went into the living room. The scotch bottle and tumbler were gone, but his phone was still there. He picked it up and dialed the hospital. Barb was busy with a patient, so he left a message for her to call him when she was free. Then he called his partner. "Hey. You called?"

_How are you?_

"I'm all right. What's going on?"

_I got a call first thing this morning from the ME after she couldn't reach you. Thanks for that, by the way. I love those 7 am calls you are supposed to get._

"Sorry."

_You owe me. Do you want to come over here or do you want me to come over there?_

His eyes absently strayed to the pictures on the mantel and he felt a sudden urge to get out. "Uh, how about meeting for lunch? I'll buy."

_Deal. Where?_

"The diner by the office?"

_Need some comfort food, partner?_

"Maybe."

_I'll meet you there in an hour._

"Let's make it two, okay? I have something to do on the way."

_Okay. See you then._

He closed the phone and slipped it into his pocket. Then he left the house, locking the door and heading out into the breezy, sunny day.

* * *

Eames had just been given her coffee when he arrived. A second cup had been set at his place and he smiled at her. "So what did Rodgers want?" 

"She found a second slug."

"Where?"

"Lodged in his lower abdominal wall, obscured by just about everything. Apparently it was just out of the x-ray field."

He frowned. "What made her go back and look?"

"Some nagging feeling that she was missing something. She's been spending too much time around you."

"Do we have an entrance wound?"

"Not yet. She's looking. Slug's at ballistics, and the preliminaries show enough in common with the head slug to make a reasonable deduction that they came from the same gun."

"Has Rico showed up yet?"

"Not yet. How much do you want to bet he's not even in New York any more?"

"Not so fast. Rico's the youngest son, and by all accounts, Mommy's boy. I don't think he's going far. Carlo has only one weakness, and that's his family. This wife is his third, and he has two sons by her, Dominik and Rico. By his other wives, he has two older sons and four daughters. Of them all, Rico is his favorite, along with Berto, his only grandson, who is two."

Eames studied her partner. "And you know this how?"

"I have...contacts, who know something about this...from when I was in Narcotics. I still have favors I can call in if I need to. We'll find Rico if it comes to that."

She narrowed her eyes at him. "Do you know something?"

He remained silent as the waitress approached and took their meal order. Once she was gone, Eames pressed him again. "What do you know, Goren?"

"I know that Rico is...accessible. I also know that Carlo is not going to take it well if he gets arrested. It's a powderkeg, Eames. And we're setting off sparks left and right. We go after Rico, and we may as well be holding a torch to it."

"What do you know?"

"Nothing, yet."

"Goren..."

"It's nothing definite. Just...'I heard from a friend of a friend...' I put out the word that I need information, that's all."

"Suppose the wrong people get drift of your need for information?"

"Then I might be in trouble."

"Dammit, Bobby."

"It's all right, Eames. I've done this before. We have an idea what went down. All we need is to find the proof that will put Rico away."

"And then Carlo will be after your ass for nailing his favorite son."

He shook his head. "I doubt it. He'll make a stink and direct it at the NYPD. That's as close as he'll be able to get. I don't plan to leave a trail he can follow. When we make the arrest, we're just going to be serving a warrant signed by a judge. Carlo has never been one to shoot the mesenger."

"I hope you're right about this, Bobby."

"Trust me."

"Trust isn't the issue here."

"I'll let you know what I find out. You know that."

"I just don't want you getting in over your head."

"That's never happened."

"That doesn't mean it never will."

"Eames..."

"Okay, okay...I'm just concerned."

"Don't be."

She let the matter drop for the moment. Before she could pick up another topic, his phone rang. He pulled it out and flipped it open. "Goren."

She knew from the change in his manner that it was Barb, and she excused herself from the table, heading for the rest room. Goren turned his full attention to the phone. "How are you?"

Barb knew what he meant. _I don't know. I've been trying to pretend this isn't happening but it's not working._

"You know it won't, because it is happening. Denial just postpones the inevitable. It doesn't solve anything."

_I know that. That's why it's not working._

"When is he coming home?"

_The tenth._

"If you want me to make myself scarce, just say so."

_I don't. Not at all. I want you around more now than I ever have._

He felt guilty at the pleasure he felt on hearing her say that. "Just...don't stop talking to me, Barb."

_Don't let me. I have to go. I'll be home around 8:30. _

"I'm not sure when I'll get home. I'll call you."

_Sounds like a plan. I love you._

"Love you, too. Bye."

He put the phone away and waited for Eames. She slid into the booth and asked, "How is she?"

"Struggling with denial."

"She's in denial?"

"No. She _wants_ to be in denial. She just knows better."

"And what are you doing?"

"Anything she wants me to."

She nodded slowly. "Good answer. When is Brian coming home?"

He hesitated when the waitress delivered their food, then he answered, "October tenth."

"And what are you going to do when he gets here? Take off?"

"No. She's asked me not to."

"Good for her." She was quiet for a moment. "Has he started chemo?"

"I don't know. I haven't talked to her about it yet."

"Is she at home now?"

"No. She's at work."

She was quiet for a moment. "Would you do me a favor, Bobby?"

"Of course."

"Before you go all FBI on me and start seeking out Rico Gambisi, I want you to think about Barb. Think about what she's going through, and what it would do to her if you ended up under a bridge somewhere with a mobster's bullet in you."

"Eames..."

"Yeah, I heard you. But I know you and you worry me. Just...think about her, and me, before you get yourself in over your head."

He fell silent and let her words penetrate. She watched him in silence as they ate. She knew he was thinking, but she wasn't sure if it was a good thing or not. Finally, he looked up at her, his eyes guarded. "If Rico is guilty, then we're going after him, but only if he's guilty. I don't have a vendetta against the Gambisis. I do have a job to do, though. We have a dead man, and our job is to find his killer and bring him to justice. If Rico Gambisi did it, then we'll do our job. I will do everything in my power to protect the ones I love. But I am going to do my job."

Eames sighed. "You misunderstood me. I would never expect you not to do your job. What I don't want you doing is getting too deeply involved with the wrong people. We will do what we can to bring Rico to justice, but there comes a time when the price is too great to pay. Losing you is too great a price to pay, and I'm telling you right now, I am going to do everything I can to see that that will not happen. So if we're both clear on that, let's drop it."

He was quiet again, and finally he said, "Okay, Eames. But I want one more favor from you. I want your word."

"About what?"

"If something does go wrong...promise me you'll take care of her for me."

Eames' eyes became bright with emotion. "Bobby," she said, her voice soft and gentle. "She's losing her son. If she loses you, too, do you think there is going to be anything left for me to take care of?"

His jaw knotted and she reached out to touch his hand. He started to withdraw it, but she grabbed it and held on. He didn't struggle. "I promise," she said. "Just promise me it will never come to that."

He nodded. "It'll be all right."

"It better be, Goren. If it's not, then, regardless of your eternal reward, I'll make your afterlife hell."

He finally laughed. Somehow, he knew she would find exactly how to do just that.


	24. Make It Permanent

There were no lights on in the house when Barb got home, but once she let herself in, she saw a fire blazing away in the fireplace. She hung up her jacket and her bag and headed into the living room. He was laying on his side on the rug in front of the fire, watching the flames. "Bobby?"

He turned his head to look at her. "Hi, baby."

"Let me get changed. I'll be right down."

He nodded and returned his attention to the fire. Ten minutes later, she dropped to her knees behind him and leaned down to kiss him. "Good day?" she asked.

"Fair. I want to talk to you." He coaxed her to lay down on the rug in front of him. "Do you feel up to it?"

"You want to talk about Brian."

"Yes."

"You do understand..."

He closed off her sentence with a soft kiss. "Yes, I understand this is incredibly difficult for you, even to talk about."

Settling into his arms, she said, "Okay, then, what do you want to know?"

"You said he's coming home to die. I...I'm having trouble with that statement. Has he started chemo or radiation?"

"No. And he won't."

"Why not?"

"Because neither treatment will do any good and he doesn't want to spend the last weeks of his life sick from treatments that might, at best, buy him a few more horrible weeks. He said it's quality over quantity."

"What makes him think treatment would be ineffective?"

"I don't know how long it's gone undetected, but this is a very, very aggressive cancer. It has already metastasized throughout his body. They've found lesions in his liver and kidneys, in his spine, throughout his pelvis, in his testes and on MRI in his brain. It's untreatable."

He knew exactly what she was doing. In remaining clinical and thinking of him in terms of a patient, she was removing the emotion factor and allowing herself the ability to have this discussion. He tightened his arms around her. "There's no mistake?"

"Unfortunately, no. He's been seeing the best oncologist in Chicago. His records are being sent to Sloan-Kettering, but he has already asked for hospice."

"Do you agree with his decision?"

She hesitated. "I support his decision."

"That's not what I asked."

She turned to look into the fire and rested her head on his arm. "I...I don't know. I understand his decision; Kevin made the same one. I think it's the right decision. But as a nurse and as his mother...I don't know if I agree." She traced the pattern in the rug in front of her with a finger. "It's not my place to agree or not."

He brought his head down next to hers and spoke softly into her ear. "No, but you have an opinion."

"Most of me thinks he's made the right decision. It's the irrational, frantic mother part of me that screams 'no!' and wants modern medicine to make him well, even though the professional nurse side of me knows full well that it can't."

His hand lightly stroked her side. "What do you need from me?"

"I'm going to need you to keep me grounded."

He laughed. "You need _me_ to keep _you_ grounded?"

She elbowed him in the ribs. "Yes. I need the rational part of you to keep reminding me that this is the right thing to do. I need you to hold me together when I just want to fall apart. I need the 'calm in a crisis' cop in you to get me through this."

"I can do that. But what about the irrational side of me? You know...the side that desperately wants to be able to fix everything by kissing away your problems. That male part of me that hopes loving you can make the world all better, even if I know it can't."

She turned onto her back to look at him. "I'll need that part of you, too."

"Well, you're going to have to let me know when that side is welcome. I don't want to take any chances of doing the wrong thing at the wrong time."

She shook her head slowly. "Don't worry about it, Bobby. I have never had to tell you to back off twice. I'll let you know when there's no hope of making the world better, at least for the time. And then I'll tell you when it's okay again. Just...don't go anywhere, all right?"

He tightened his arms around her, pulling her snug against his body. "Not a chance." He kissed her neck. "I'll stay for as long as you'll have me."

Pressing harder into him, she whispered, "I hope you have no other plans for the rest of your life, detective."

"Only to spend it with you," he muttered softly as she slid her arms around his neck and let him kiss her pain away.

* * *

Late that night, she sat against the arm of the couch, watching a program on Discovery Health. He was laying beside her, his head resting on her thigh as she weaved her fingers through his hair. He was content, half-dozing in the contrast provided by the warm glow of the fire and the cool glow of the television.

During a commercial break halfway through the show, she muted the volume and said, "I've been thinking about something."

He grunted absently, but she knew he was listening. She continued playing with his hair as she said, "When was the last time you were at your apartment?"

"I...I stopped to get the mail the other day."

"That's an awfully expensive mailbox, you know."

"My stuff's still there."

"So move it."

He turned his head to look up at her. "Move it where?"

She lightly smacked his forehead. "Don't be obtuse." Leaning down, she kissed the spot she'd smacked. "Do I have to say it?"

His eyes sparked. "Say what, baby?"

She moved her lips down to brush his. "Move in here with me," she whispered.

"Brian's coming home..."

"My love life is not my son's concern. Besides, he asked me last week when you were going to move in. He likes you, and he hasn't even met you yet. It's enough for him that you make me happy."

"Do I?"

"Yes. You do. So how about it?"

He took the remote from her hand and unmuted the volume. "I'll think about it."

He turned to look at the television and she leaned down to kiss his ear. "What's to think about? You're here most of the time anyway."

"I need to think about whether I'm ready to make it permanent."

"Are you still afraid?"

"Afraid of what?"

"Afraid I'm going to reject you again."

"No. Not any more."

"All right then. You can have the study for your books and things."

She lightly breathed into his ear and he felt it deep in his gut. "Keep doing that and I'll do anything you ask," he said with a husky chuckle.

"Is that all I have to do to get you to agree with me?"

"It's a start."

She laughed and kissed his temple. "I'm serious about this, Bobby."

"I know you are. Give me a little time to think about it, babe."

"That's my guy," she whispered. "Always gotta think about everything."

"Not everything. Not anymore."

"Oh? What don't you have to think about?"

"I never give a second thought to loving you."

She kissed him again, and the flutter she'd started in his gut began to grow. She never saw the end of her show.

* * *

A balled up paper bounced off his head and he looked up from his desk. His partner looked at him expectantly. "What?" he asked.

"I said, what is with you today? You're a million miles away."

"No, not quite a million miles."

"What's up?"

"Uh, Barb asked me to give up the apartment and move in with her."

"And?"

"And I told her I'd think about it."

"You really are an idiot. What's to think about? You're always at Barb's anyway."

"I know. But there's a certain...finality to making it permanent."

"You doubt what you feel for her?"

"Not at all."

"What she feels for you?"

"No."

"Worried about Brian?"

"Barb's not."

"But you are."

"A little. I...I don't want to intrude on the time he has left with his mother."

"Did it ever occur to you that you might enhance that time for her?"

"Enhance it? How?"

Eames sighed, searching for patience. "Such a brilliant mind and yet so clueless all at the same time."

"Give me a break, Eames. I've never done this before."

"No one is more important to her than you and Brian. Don't you think that having both of you together with her for however long Brian has left will make her happy? And that, in turn, will make Brian's last months happy, too. He'll be able to let go and die in peace, knowing his mother is loved and well cared for. That means a lot, Bobby. Don't doubt that."

He scrubbed his hands over his face, then rested his chin on them. He was quiet for a moment, and his eyes were distant. When he turned back out of his head, he looked at her. "Thank you, Eames."

She suppressed a smile. "What for?"

"For being a voice of reason for me. I...need that sometimes."

"I know you do, and that's my job...to make you see things the way they are, not the way you sometimes interpret them."

He smiled, but before he could reply, his phone rang. "Goren."

She watched his expression change in intensity as he listened. Finally he said, "I'll be there."

He hung up the phone and looked at his partner, his expression telling her he had something to say that she was not going to like. "What is it?" she asked.

"I have to go out for awhile."

"Out where?"

"Just...out."

"We're not married, Goren. Where are you going?"

"To meet a contact."

"Bobby..."

"I'll be fine. I'll be back by three."

"I'm going with you."

"No, you're not."

"Dammit...you are not going without backup."

"I don't need backup to meet a contact. He's not a suspect. He's a buddy from narcotics, and I'm not going to put him at risk by showing up with a squad. I'll be back shortly. Please, Eames. Don't make a scene."

"A scene? Bite me, asshole. Go on and get the hell out of here."

"Don't be mad...Come on, Eames. Give me a break here. I have to protect him, too."

Her eyes narrowed at him. "Go on and protect the world. It'll drag you down until there's nothing left."

He sighed in defeat. "I'll be back," he said softly.

She watched him leave. As the elevator doors closed, she was struck by a sudden, unexplained sense of foreboding that she couldn't shake. _Bobby..._


	25. Duty Calls

Barb got home from work and made a light dinner. Bobby was usually home by the time she got there, but she assumed he was working a lead on his case. After eating, she cleaned the dishes and took a shower. It was a cool night, but she still had no desire to turn on the heat. She grabbed a blanket from the hall closet and went down to the living room. Wrapping it around her, she settled on the couch to watch television and wait for Bobby to come home.

The phone woke her. She got up and went to the kitchen to answer it. "Hello?"

_Did I wake you, Barb?_

"It's fine, Alex. What's up?"

_Have you heard from Bobby tonight?_

"No. I assumed he was working on your case."

_He is. He left the squad this afternoon to meet with a contact. I'm sure he's fine. I thought maybe he would have called you._

"I'll let you know if I hear from him."

_Great. Thanks._

She hung up the phone. Alex sounded worried in spite of her efforts to remain conversational, and that didn't sit well with her at all. Now she was worried but there was nothing she could do.

* * *

The ground beneath him was cold and hard. Cement. He groaned and rolled onto his back. Memories of getting punched came flooding back and he pushed himself up, alert and ready to continue fighting. A hand came to rest on his arm and a familiar voice calmed him. "Take it easy, kid. You took a beating. You're every bit as tough as I remembered." 

He fell back onto the cold cement and moistened his lips. "What happened?"

"Wrong place, wrong time. I am so sorry."

"Gambisi...?"

"No. This has nothing to do with the Gambisis. Carlo has no idea you're looking for Rico. This is something else entirely, something you have nothing to do with...well, you didn't until now."

"What went down?"

"There's a local gang of dealers who've been grabbing our guys and turning 'em over to one of the Columbian cartels. That's what I've been working on. They've grabbed eight of our guys so far. Five of 'em managed to get away. The other three vanished, presumably into the Columbian jungle."

"God, Cal. What the hell did you get yourself into?"

"I'm not worried about me right now. I gotta get you out of here. You got no part in this."

Goren sat up slowly. His body hurt from the beating he'd taken, but nothing seemed to be broken. The spinning in his throbbing head said concussion, but he wasn't puking, so it wasn't bad. "Where are we?"

"Down by the dockyards. My guess is they plan to get us on a boat sometime before dawn, so we've got to get moving soon. They've got one guard outside the door; I haven't noticed anyone else around. These fellas don't seem to be the brightest bulbs in the box. I didn't get the beating you did 'cause I know how to play possum, and they bought it hook, line and sinker." He sighed heavily. "We'll wait a little while to let your head clear some more, then we're getting out of here. Be ready to move your ass—I'll head toward the water and draw their attention if I need to. I don't plan to go into the water unless they come after me. You go the other way, toward the city. Get the hell away from the yards as fast as you can, Bobby. Then you're on your own. There's nothing more I can do for you. The smartest thing you could have done was leave your wallet and your badge behind, but they took your sidearm. They have no idea who you are. For all they know, you're a mark."

"So why'd they take me with you?"

"Convenience?"

"Bullshit. They made me."

"Maybe. But narcotics isn't your gig anymore. You go after the big fish now. And I'm going to send you home so you can keep doing it."

"What about you, Cal?"

"If I make it, I'll get word to you. If I don't...that's a risk we take, isn't it?"

"Is there anything I can do?"

"Just get your ass home safe." He leaned back against the wall. "I've seen you in the papers...Major Case...not too shabby."

"I like it there. I get to flex my profiling skills, and I have one hell of a partner." He felt a pang of guilt, remembering the way he'd left her that afternoon. "I am surprised to find you still out in the field."

"I'll die in the field, Bobby. No desk for me, and retirement will kill me faster than the streets."

"How does Wanda feel about that?"

"She knows me. She accepted my fate long ago. Same with the kids. It's not a matter of 'if' the job kills me. It's a matter of 'when'. What about you, pal? Got a wife yet?"

"No. No wife, no kids." He smiled. "But my girlfriend is for keeps."

"I remember the trail of broken hearts you used to leave behind. This one must be special."

"She is, to me anyway."

"Then we'd better get your ass home to her. How's your head?"

"Hurts like hell, but it's not spinning anymore."

"Feeling strong enough to do this?"

"Let's go."

* * *

Eames sat silently at her desk, staring at her partner's empty chair. She was startled when Carruthers dropped down into it from nowhere. He leaned forward. "Sorry, Alex. Didn't mean to scare you." 

She rubbed her face. "I'm just tired."

"I don't doubt it. It's almost ten. We found Goren's car, down on the lower East side. I have good news and bad news."

He looked expectant, but said no more, which annoyed her. "Tell me, Ethan, or I swear I'll come over the desks to smack you."

He smiled, then became serious as he recounted what they'd found. "Under the front seat we found his wallet, badge, phone, keys, knife and backup piece. That's the bad news. Good news is so far the techs haven't found any blood. Seems like he left the car there intentionally, and then disappeared. We're combing the area, but so far, no one's seen him. We'll keep looking."

"Thanks."

Now she knew why he wasn't answering his phone. What had he gotten himself into?

* * *

The room they were in wasn't very large, and it was lit by the glow from the dockyard lights through the windows that lined one wall. There was a single door. Cal walked over to the window furthest from the door and examined it closely. Quietly, he eased it open and propped it. "This'll be a piece of cake for a runt like me, but a bit of a squeeze for you. Come on." 

Cal climbed up onto a couple of crates and eased out the window, dropping easily to the ground. Goren followed, with little difficulty. They hid in the shadows and Cal snorted softly. "Not as big as you look, huh?"

"Just more flexible than I look."

He gave Goren's shoulder a friendly smack. "Head for home, pal. Keep outta sight and be careful."

"Take care of yourself, Cal."

The narcotics cop leaned close and grabbed Goren's arm, meeting his eyes in the dim light. "Don't do anything stupid, Bobby. I don't want your blood on my hands. Trust me, and don't look back." He watched the guilt cross Goren's face and tightened his grip. "Don't go there. Think of your girl and that partner you like so much. I'll be fine. Now go."

He gently shoved him toward the corner of the building. Once he was out of sight, Cal headed off the other way.

Goren stayed in the shadows, making his way through the dockyards cautiously. For a big man, he had an amazing ability to make himself invisible. He listened for any sort of commotion coming from the docks, but he heard nothing. He kept to the shadows, twice avoiding a handful of laughing dockworkers who approached him. They passed on by, never once glancing his way. Apparently, no one had discovered they were missing yet.

He had almost reached the streets when he heard the sounds of shouting in the distance, and he stopped. Listening intently to the commotion, he tried to decipher it. He looked toward the streets, and he thought about Barb and Alex. Then he looked back toward the docks, where a brother officer was in trouble. _Think of your girl and that partner you like so much...I don't want your blood on my hands. Trust me..._

Looking back toward the streets, he blew a kiss into the air and whispered, "I love you."

Then he turned toward the docks and ran back the way he had come.


	26. What Now, Genius?

As he made his way back to the docks, Goren struggled to keep his mind off Barb. _She's losing her son. If she loses you, too, do you think there is going to be anything left for me to take care of?_

Leave it to Eames to hit the nail on the head, as usual. Approaching the back of the building where he and Cal had been kept, he resolved to get through this so he could go home...

_Home_. He had a real home now. And why did he consider it home? Because Barb was there. He hesitated in the shadows. Making up his mind about several personal issues that had been troubling him, he was able to set his emotions aside and continue toward the front of the building.

In the lights illuminating the docks, he saw Cal, supported between two men while a third used him as a punching bag. He swallowed down his anger and his mind raced through his options, such that they were. "Where'd the other one go, asshole?"

Cal remained silent. He wasn't surprised. His mind raced, searching for something he could do that wouldn't get them both killed. _Not the brightest bulbs in the box..._ _All right, then, let's see just how bright they are. _

He stepped from the shadows. "Are you looking for me?"

Cal raised his head. "Bobby, no!"

The three men looked in his direction as he dove back into the shadows. "Stay here," the one who was in charge shouted at the other two.

He ran after Goren. Hidden in the shadows at the back of the building, Goren smiled. No caution. The guy was too confident. He hefted a board he'd picked up off the ground and waited. As his pursuer rounded the end of the building, Goren swung the board like a bat and hit him with it, knocking him to the ground, unconscious. Dropping to a knee beside him, he made sure the guy was alive, then he took the weapon from the ground beside his unconscious form and moved slowly back to the edge of the building. He stepped into the light, gun leveled at the two men. "Let him go."

They dropped Cal to the ground. Cal had been right: they really weren't the brightest bulbs in the box. When their eyes kept darting past him, he knew there was someone behind him. Then he heard movement and ducked to the side. He received a glancing blow from the butt of a pistol and staggered as the body of a man almost his size stumbled past him, carried forward by the force of his swing. He could feel the blood pouring down the side of his face but he fought off the daze from the blow. The man turned, bringing his gun to bear on Goren, but the cop fired first. His bullet tore through the other man's thigh, sending him to the ground with a scream, leg drawn toward his abdomen.

"Next?" Goren growled.

The two men began to back off and Goren moved forward. They turned and ran. He fired over their heads, then turned to Cal. They'd be back soon with reinforcements. The guy he'd shot was now unconscious. "Come on, Cal. We've gotta get the hell out of here."

Shoving the gun into his belt at the small of his back, he helped Cal to his feet, still fighting the fog in his head. The two cops headed away from the docks and disappeared into the shadows.

It wasn't long before the shouts of men echoed through the dockyards. Goren was able to gauge how close they were from their shouts, but the echoes made it difficult to tell where they were. He pushed hard, but he knew he wasn't going to be able to keep going for long. Keeping in mind that the shortest distance between two points was a straight line, he headed them toward the city lights, moving as fast as he was physically able while supporting part of Cal's weight. He tried to stay in the shadows of the buildings, but ultimately he decided speed was more important than stealth. Grateful for the head start, brief though it was, he tried to put as much distance between them and the men pursuing them as he could. Uninjured and unencumbered, they would travel much faster than he and Cal could. He urged Cal on faster, fighting against his own body as they ran.

Once they cleared the dockyards, he continued to push on, knowing they were both approaching their limits. It was getting harder to keep the fog at bay and his head was throbbing. He found a dark, dead-end alley, pushing Cal into the deep shadow. He let Cal slide from his grasp to the ground, collapsing beside him and everything faded to darkness.

* * *

Barb woke early. She had arranged for one of the other nurses to cover for her, not wanting her distraction to interfere with her ability to care for patients. She picked up the phone and called Eames. "Alex, this is Barb. Have you heard from him?" 

_I'm sorry, Barb. Nothing. We...we found his car on the lower east side, in a not so great neighborhood. But there's no sign of him or the detective he was meeting. As soon as I know anything, I promise, I'll call. Are you at the hospital?_

"No. I'll be home. Alex...he would call...if he could..."

_I know he would. We're looking. I don't know what else to do._

"Thanks. I'll call you if I hear from him."

She hung up the phone, returned to the couch and sat there, staring into the cold fireplace. "Bobby..." she whispered into the empty room. "Where are you?"

* * *

Eames now had a better understanding of her partner's restlessness. She had not been able to settle down all day, pacing the squad room and ignoring the advice of her fellow detectives and the captain to go home and get some sleep. _As if._

His car had turned up no further leads as to where he went. They weren't even certain which narcotics detective he was meeting. There were several in the field on cases who had not been heard from in days, including three who were working without backup, which had their captain furious.

As daylight faded into night and then back into daylight, she tried to busy herself helping the others with their cases, all the while waiting for the call that never came, telling her that Bobby was safe and still in one piece.

* * *

"Hey, buddy...come on, wake up." 

Cal's voice was hoarse. He woke in the dark alley with no idea how he got there or how much time had passed. He'd felt a moment of panic, finding Goren unconscious and bloody, but his heart was strong and his breathing regular. He shivered in the cool of the night. Gently patting Goren's cheek, he tried again. "Bobby...up and at 'em, boy. Come on."

Goren finally groaned and slowly opened his eyes. Cal helped him to sit up and lean back against the building. He smacked the younger cop's shoulder. "What the hell is wrong with you? What were you thinking? Exactly which part of 'Don't look back' were you unclear on?"

Goren stared at his friend and answered, "The part that would take you away from your kids forever, and the part that says you never fail to backup a fellow officer." He studied Cal, who remained silent. "Do you have a death wish, Cal?"

"No. But I have enough blood on my hands, enough guilt to keep me awake every night for the rest of my life."

Guilt was something Goren understood well. "I have enough guilt of my own, thanks. I don't need you adding to it."

"I..." He sighed. "I didn't intend that. I guess guilt is something that goes with the job. How do you deal with it?"

"I let my girl take care of that, and she does a hell of a job. I can't say she chases all the nightmares away; no one will ever do that. But most nights, I sleep."

Cal smiled. "Good for you. You're one of the lucky ones."

"Doesn't Wanda help you sleep?"

"She never could. I found my buddy Jack Daniels is my best sleep aid. Like I said, we all find our way."

Goren snorted. "Don't think I've never been down your path. I prefer the one I'm on now. No hangovers."

Cal laughed. "There'd be something seriously wrong with you if you didn't prefer it." He sighed. "So what do we do now?" He looked at his watch. "It's ten o'clock." He looked at the dark sky above them. "And I'm guessing it's not ten a.m. We've been here nearly a day."

Goren groaned. Barb and Alex would be frantic by now. "God, they're gonna kill me."

"Who?"

"My partner, first of all, and then my captain. I'm not sure how my girl's gonna react, and I'm not so sure I really want to find out." Suppose, with everything happening with Brian, she decided she couldn't take it? If he lost her again...this time it would kill him.

"I'll have my own firing squad to face back at the unit. Too bad running away together isn't an option."

"Sorry, Cal. You're not my type."

Cal laughed again. "Okay, genius. What's your plan? We've got no money, no ID, no phones and we look like something the cat dragged in and killed."

"We can flag down a patrol car..."

"Oh, no. There's no way I'm spending time in a holding cell while they check out our story. This isn't the best area of town and we look like we fit right in. No one's gonna take us at our word."

"Cal, all it would take is one phone call to my squad..."

"Then go. I'm not. I'll walk home first."

"Where are you living these days?"

"Queens."

Several different scenarios ran through Goren's mind and he calculated the best acceptable option. He didn't have his keys so that ruled out heading for his apartment or his partner's. He knew her; she'd be at the squad trying to figure out where he'd vanished to. That was where he would be if she was missing. Walking to Queens was out of the question. "All right, Cal. Let's go."

"Where are you dragging me now?"

"Home."

* * *

Barb jumped out of bed at the sound of the doorbell, glancing at the time as she pulled on her robe. Three a.m. Who could be at the door at this hour? She'd slept only briefly and fitfully since Bobby went missing, and she had no idea what to do with herself. She hadn't gone to work and she'd only briefly spoken to Brian, but offered no details. She didn't want him to worry; he had enough on his mind. 

She hurried down the stairs and opened the door. Then she just stood there and stared at the dirty, bloody, exhausted mess of a man who leaned against the doorjamb and grinned wearily at her. "I, uh, forgot my keys," he muttered.

She gasped softly. "Bobby..."

Without hesitation, she stepped into his arms and held him tight. He kissed her head. "I am so sorry," he whispered.

She turned her face up toward his and kissed him. "Look at you," she said as she swallowed down tears of relief and gratitude. "You're a mess."

"I know. Um, I brought a buddy with me." She stepped back into the foyer as he crossed the threshold, stumbling slightly, followed by an older, equally dirty, bloody and unsteady man. She grabbed each man by an arm. Goren nodded his head toward Cal. "Zachary Calhoun," he said by way of introduction. "He's a narcotics detective. Cal, this is Barb."

Cal smiled an equally weary smile. "Nice to meet you. Please, forgive my appearance," he apologized.

"Forget that. I'm just glad you're both here. Come on. Let's get you boys cleaned up and I'll take a look at those injuries."

Goren touched her shoulder as she turned toward the stairs. "I need to make a call."

"You can call her from the bedroom."

"Is she okay?"

"She's worried sick and ready to strangle you."

"I figured."

"Come on."

Once upstairs she directed Cal toward the guest bath. "I'll set a fresh change of clothes on the sink for you. Take your time and call out if you need me. The guest room is right next to it. Go ahead and get settled when you're done in the shower."

"Thank you." His eyes shifted to Goren. "My wife..."

He nodded. "My partner will call your unit and they can call Wanda. You can give her a call after you clean up."

"Thanks, pal." He headed for the bathroom Barb had directed him to.

Goren went into the master bedroom while Barb went to get clothes for Cal. He leaned against the wall next to Barb's nightstand, picked up the phone and dialed, waiting for her to answer. _Eames_.

She sounded as tired as he felt. "Hey. It's me."

_Bobby! Where the hell are you?_

"Home. We just got here."

_We?_

"It's a long story, Eames."

_Are you all right?_

He hesitated as Barb came into the room, smiled at him and turned to rummage through the dresser for a set of clothes for him to change into. "I'm okay."

_Good. Then I can knock the shit out of you._

"I've been beaten up enough for right now. Can I take a rain check on that?"

Concern filled her voice. _Are you sure you're all right?_

"Just some cuts and bruises. But I'm exhausted, filthy and I smell like a fishing trawler. Before I hit the bed, I need a hot shower and something to drink."

_And Barb,_ she said softly. It wasn't a question.

He glanced over at her, still bent over the dresser. "Always," he said quietly, with affection. "And you, too, Alex."

_I know, partner._

"Would you call over to Narcotics and let them know Detective Calhoun is safe so they can call his wife?"

_Sure. Then I'm coming over. I'll bring your stuff to you._

"What stuff?"

_Your wallet, badge, keys...the stuff you left under the front seat of your car._

"Ah, they found my car, huh?"

_Did you think we wouldn't be looking?_

"Not at all. I knew you would. Where is my car?"

_Once the CSU guys finished processing it, I took it over to my place and parked it_.

"Thanks, Alex."

_I'll be there in a little while._

"See you then."

He hung up the phone. Barb set his clothes on the bed beside him and stepped into a hug. "I'm filthy," he softly protested when she leaned into him.

"So I see," she said as she leaned up to kiss him.

It took no effort for him to lose himself in her kiss and when she stepped back, he had to take a moment to recover. "I...I'd better get cleaned up."

"I'll check on Cal."

He grabbed her arm. "Thank you, baby."

She smiled and affectionately touched his chin. "Go, take your shower. I'll be back."

He watched her leave the room then headed into the bathroom. The hot water of the shower burned and stung every open wound on his body. Several of them were already inflamed and looking nasty. The soap didn't feel any better, but it still felt good to wash away the dirt and grime of the docks. After washing his hair, he stood in the stream of the water and watched the mixture of blood and water wash down the drain. He'd probably reopened every laceration he had. It was the one on the side of his head that hurt the most, though, making his head spin intermittently as he felt his pulse pound in his skull. _Damn_.

When he came out of the bathroom, dressed only in sweat pants, he headed for the bed, still unsteady and grateful to make it that far without collapsing. It had been a struggle. He sat down with a groan as he held a dark blue facecloth against the side of his head and laid a matching towel on the pillows. His entire body hurt and he was beyond exhausted, but he felt almost human again. He laid back on the bed and looked up at the ceiling. The room spun again, faster, and he closed his eyes.


	27. Welcome Advice

He wasn't sure what roused him, but he heard the sound of voices, muffled through the closed door. With effort, he opened his eyes. He stared at the ceiling for a moment, then let his eyes scan the room. He was alone, and his thoughts turned immediately to Barb. She had not seemed angry. In fact, she seemed glad to see him, relieved that he was all right. His mind was still foggy from the concussion and exhaustion, but he was worried, and it was that worry that had interfered with his body's need to sleep. He had to talk to Barb. More than sleep, he needed her reassurance that he had not totally blown it with her this time.

Slowly, he sat up, and the room tilted. When he raised his hand to touch the side of his still-throbbing head, he felt wet gauze. His fingers came away bloody and he could feel the blood beginning to trickle down his face again. The other wounds on his face, torso and arms had been cleaned, but only the one on the side of his head sported a dressing. He didn't even want to count the bruises he'd suffered, and his muscles were sore, but overall, he wasn't too bad. Cal, he knew, had taken a worse beating the second time around.

Swinging his legs over the side of the bed, he sat still for a few moments to allow everything to steady before trying to get to his feet. His concussion couldn't be too bad; he didn't feel nauseous. He was just dizzy, and his fatigue was likely contributing to that. Once the room righted itself, he stood slowly. The room remained upright and he made his way unsteadily to the door. It seemed to take forever but he finally got there and pulled the door open.

The voices stopped and three pairs of eyes turned to look at him. Barb was standing closest to him, talking to Eames and Ray Harper. She moved closer, resting her hand on his arm. "Bobby, what are you doing up?"

He met her eyes and saw only concern. No anger, no censure. Just concern...and love. "I was wondering...what was going on..."

"Sure you were. Come on; back to bed."

When he turned back into the bedroom, she saw the blood running down the side of his face. "Oh...your head is bleeding again..." Looking over her shoulder, she addressed the doctor. "Ray, you'd better take a look at this."

She guided him back to the bed, holding firmly onto his arm. He sat slowly, then looked up at his partner, who stood just behind Barb. "Hey, Alex."

Barb disappeared into the bathroom as Eames crossed her arms and studied his bruised face. "You're a mess," she said, but her voice was gentle and laced with concern.

Before he could reply, his attention was drawn back to Barb, who returned with a warm washcloth. Vaguely remembering that she had answered the door in her robe, he noticed that she was now dressed and, for a confused moment, he wondered why. Understanding dawned when Harper entered his field of vision, reminding him that he was there, while she gently cleaned the blood from the side of his face and removed the bandage. He gave the doctor a small smile. "Dr. Harper...I seem to keep finding ways to keep you busy, don't I?"

Harper laughed quietly. "Let me tell you, son, I would much rather come here to suture a few lacerations than deal with a bullet hole in your chest."

"I think I prefer that, too."

"Let me take a quick look at you before I tend to your friend."

He nodded and shifted his eyes back to his partner. "I, uh, I'm sorry."

"You will be. I told you not to go alone, you idiot."

"This had nothing to do with our case," he protested. "It was a matter of...bad timing. I'm glad you weren't there."

"I'm not the only one you worried."

His eyes shifted wearily to Barb, who was talking to Harper. "I know. But...I really am sorry for the way I left. I...I was an ass, and you didn't deserve that."

"Don't worry, Bobby. You'll get to make it up to both of us...if there's anything left of you once the captain gets done with you."

His mouth twitched into a tired smile, but he was too exhausted to worry about what Deakins would do to him, not to mention the fact that he had a more important concern on his mind. "I'm sure I will."

He fell silent as Harper examined his head and then turned his attention to the rest of him, gently poking and prodding every laceration and bruise with practiced hands. He gave him a brief neurological exam and finally said, "Nothing seems to be broken, and you likely have a moderate concussion. Nothing Barb can't handle here. I'll suture your wounds shortly, after I examine Detective Calhoun."

Goren nodded. Barb lightly touched his cheek. "I'll be back."

He watched her lead the doctor from the room. Eames sat down beside him."I'm not staying for long. Teddy's waiting for me downstairs."

"Teddy? He's here?"

"Yes. After I called him to tell him we found you, he met me over here with your car."

"Why didn't he come up?"

"He didn't want to be in the way. And neither do I. I think Barb can handle you." She kissed his cheek. "Behave yourself, will you?"

"I'll try."

She rose from the bed and started to move away, but he caught her hand. "Alex...uh, is Barb all right? I mean...is she mad?"

She studied him, easily reading the worry in his eyes. "What are you worried about?"

"With everything that's happening with Brian, I...I don't want to drive her off..."

She understood his concern after what had happened last fall. She touched his chin. "I don't think you have to worry, Bobby. She loves you...and that means accepting it when you do dumbass things like this. I think she's in it for the long haul. She needs you as much as you need her, and she understands you better now, I think. Give her the benefit of the doubt. Now, I really better go."

He nodded. "Say hi to Teddy for me, and tell him thanks."

"I will. Get some sleep."

He released her hand and she left the room. She crossed the hall and poked her head into the guest bedroom. "Barb, Teddy and I are going to go home. I'll call you later."

She closed the door quietly and started toward the stairs. She heard the door and turned when Barb called to her as she stepped out of the guest bedroom. "Alex, did Bobby say anything to you?"

"About what?"

"Something is bothering him."

Eames sighed. Barb knew him at least as well as she did, and that impressed her. Bobby had let her in and there was no turning back for him. "Well, yes...he..." She paused. "He's afraid of losing you."

Barb looked at the floor, guilty. She had been hoping it was something else. "I was afraid of that."

With another heavy sigh, Eames leaned against the wall. She thought about what she should say. She was determined to do everything she could to keep this relationship from self-destructing as a result of misunderstandings. "Barb, there's something you have to understand about Bobby. He has lived a life of abandonment. His father abandoned the family, his mother, for all intents and purposes, abandoned him, and he's been estranged from his brother for years. He had a hard time keeping a partner until he got me...even my maternity leave last year left him feeling abandoned, and that was around the same time you broke up with him. I'm not telling you this to make you feel bad, and at the time, I knew nothing about what he was going through. I only found out recently that back then, he'd started to feel that maybe he had a chance for something real with you. I don't have to tell you how much you hurt him, and you know how reluctant he was to let you back in. Bobby doesn't give second chances. He feels something very deeply for you to have given you another chance to break his heart. Just remember that. He is a tough guy, but emotionally he's very fragile. His first inclination is never to work something out; it's to withdraw. It's up to you not to let him get away with it. I try not to, and it's taken me four years to get us to where we are now. You've gotten a lot further in a lot less time. Just...please...don't destroy him. He's feeling very uncertain now, with what's happening with Brian, after what happened last year. He needs your reassurance."

Barb wouldn't look at her as she digested everything she said. Finally, she said, "Last year was different. Now...I..." She closed her eyes for a moment. "I can't even think about letting him go. The last man I loved like this died eighteen years ago, and I never found another...until Bobby. I wasn't even looking, to tell you the truth. He kind of snuck up on me."

Eames laughed softly. "Yeah," she agreed. "He kind of does that."

Barb looked up at last and met her eyes. "I don't plan to lose him."

"He's right in there, Barb. Tell him. Oh, and one more thing...about your son...let Bobby help you. Keep him keyed in to your feelings so he doesn't misunderstand them. Don't try to protect him from what you're feeling. He needs to be part of this so he can feel like he's part of you. I know how sensitive he can be, but he really does need to share this pain with you."

"I know. I'm doing my best with it. I'm just not used to sharing my feelings with anyone."

"Neither is he. Keep that in mind, too. He has always been reluctant to share personal feelings, even with me." She stopped for a moment. "Emotional relationships have always been difficult for him. But something deep inside him changed with you. If you leave him, you'll take that with you, and he's never going to give it to another soul. He's survived a lot. I know--I've picked up the pieces more than once. But if you leave him...I'm not sure there will be anything left for me to pull together." She gave Barb an encouraging smile. "I just thought you needed to know that; I've been wanting to tell you. Now, I'd better go. Teddy's waiting."

"Thank you, Alex."

"Good luck."

Barb remained in the hall for a few minutes, thinking over what Alex had just told her. Then she returned to the guest room and poked in her head. "Are you all right in here, Ray? I need to talk to Bobby."

"Go on. This guy's out for the count. I'll give a yell if I need you."

"Thanks."

She walked down the hall to the master bedroom. He was still sitting on the side of the bed, and he looked up when she came in. She saw the spark that ignited in his eyes, and she also saw the apprehension and deep fatigue that lingered behind it. She sat beside him on the bed. "How's Cal?" he asked.

He always started with a safe topic when he was feeling tentative. "Looks like he's fractured a couple of ribs and maybe his collarbone. When he wakes up, he'll need to go in for x-rays. Ray is putting a shoulder immobilizer on him right now, and he'll suture his lacerations before he comes back in here to take care of you. Right now the best thing for Cal—and for you—is sleep." She turned her head to look at him and began easing him toward the subject they needed to discuss. "What woke you?"

"I heard you talking in the hall."

"That's not what woke you. That's what got your attention. You should still be sleeping, as exhausted as you are, with a concussion. Now be honest with me: what woke you?"

He looked at his hands. "I...I didn't mean to worry you. I got caught up in something unexpected. I just...hope...I'm afraid I...Barb, did I screw anything up? With us, I mean?"

She reached her hand over and touched his chin, guiding his face around to look at her. "Bobby, we need to get something straight right now. Things happen. People make mistakes. I made a big one last year, and I am deeply sorry for it. It keeps coming back to haunt me."

He rested his hand on her leg. "The only reason I'm concerned is because of Brian. I mean, face it...moving out of town doesn't hold a candle to _dying_, Barb. You were overwhelmed when he moved and you couldn't handle being with me. Your son is dying now...and you think you can handle me _and_ that..."

She placed her fingers over his mouth. "Stop talking," she whispered affectionately. "Stop talking and listen. There is a big difference, yes. But there's a difference between us, too. I was overwhelmed, and I tried pushing you away, and that made everything worse. I learned my lesson. I will never push you away again. I know that the hardest part of my life is coming up, but I also know that I can't face it alone, and now I don't have to." Her thumb stroked his cheek. "You are going to get me through when I fall apart over this."

"You're not going to fall apart, baby," he said, his voice intense. He brushed his fingers over her cheek. "I'll hold you together. When you can't handle it anymore, I'll help you find a way."

She couldn't keep the tears from welling in her eyes, but she swallowed the lump in her throat. "That's what I'm counting on," she whispered. "You. Bobby, I will never let you go, unless you want to leave."

He pulled her into his arms and held her close. "That won't happen," he whispered into her hair.

She tightened her arms around him, wondering not only at his need for reassurance, but at her own. She knew it was going to take time to get past that, and she made up her mind to give him every ounce of reassurance he required. He deserved at least that much from her.

He rested his head against hers for a moment, relieved. He had made several important decisions in the dockyards, decisions he was determined to implement now that he knew he and Barb were all right. All he had to do was wait for the right time. Tipping his head to the side, he sought out her mouth and kissed her. They both pulled back when a knock sounded and the door slowly opened. Harper stuck his head in. "Everything okay in here?"

"Fine, Ray. Come on in."

He looked at Goren. "You really should go back to sleep, Bobby. I finished with Detective Calhoun. His facial lacerations were small. Mostly he's just bruised, aside from a couple of probable fractures."

"He took more hits to the body," Goren explained.

"That makes sense given the pattern of his injuries. Now, let me finish treating you. Lay down across the bed and let me close that head laceration first."

Barb got up and walked around the bed, sitting on the other side so she could help Harper. Gently, she guided Goren back so that his head rested on her thigh. Harper sat on his other side and examined the laceration. He rummaged in his bag and took out a sterile suture kit, opening it on the bed. He went back into the bag and pulled out a pair of scissors, handing them to Barb. As she gently clipped the hair around the wound, the doctor slid on a pair of sterile gloves and arranged the supplies in front of him. Barb finished trimming and set the scissors on the nightstand. Harper turned to them with a syringe in his hand. "You're going to feel a sharp sting and some burning. It's a local anesthetic. Try not to move."

Goren settled himself on his side, sliding an arm around Barb's back. His fears abated, his exhaustion was once again catching up with him. He barely felt the needle. Barb caressed his temple and smoothed her hand through his hair while she watched the doctor work, and Goren found it impossible to stay awake any longer. Content to be with her and reassured of his place in her life, he stopped fighting the fatigue and slept.

Harper completed suturing the laceration and cleaned it, covering it with a clean sterile bandage, which he taped in place. He looked at Barb. "There. Did he go back to sleep?"

"Yes."

"Good. That's what he needs."

He turned his attention to laceration on his cheek, which he cleaned and numbed with the anesthetic. Using very small stitches spaced only millimeters apart to minimize scarring, he sutured that wound. They then gently turned him onto his back and the doctor continued working until all the lacerations on his face had been sutured. He worked a while longer on several other lacerations on his arms and two more on his left side. He then handed Barb a syringe. "Antibiotics," he explained. "Some of those smaller lacerations on his arms and torso are looking nasty."

She gave him the injection, and he slept on. Harper cleaned up the suture kit and stood, nodding his head toward the sleeping man. "If you can wake him, his concussion isn't serious and you can let him sleep for as long as he needs to."

She leaned down and spoke softly, "Bobby...wake up, baby."

He stirred with a groan and his eyelids fluttered open. "Barb..."

His eyes began to drift closed. "Hold on, Bobby. Before you go back to sleep, let's move you up onto the pillows."

He looked confused. "Got a pillow..." he muttered quietly.

She laughed softly. "I am not a pillow. Come on. Move over here."

He let her guide him up onto the pillows, and his eyes closed. She kissed his cheek, covered him with a blanket and followed Harper from the room, turning off the light as she pulled the door closed.

As they headed down the stairs, Harper said, "They'll be fine, Barb. Here are two prescriptions: antibiotics for Bobby, and antibiotics and pain medicine for Detective Calhoun. Make sure you get him in for x-rays after he wakes up."

"I'll take care of it. Thank you for coming, Ray. I really appreciate it."

"You're very welcome. Go get some rest yourself now. You look beat."

She smiled as he pulled open the front door. "Good night, Ray."

He returned her smile and left, not mentioning that the sun was making its morning appearance in the eastern sky. She closed the door and locked it then went upstairs. After checking on Cal, she went into the master bedroom, changed back into her pajamas, and slid under the blanket beside Goren.

Sliding over in the bed, she turned onto her side and snuggled against him. Tucking her head under his chin, she pressed her back into his torso. Groaning softly in his sleep, he slid his arms around her and softly sighed, but he didn't waken. She rested her hands on his, closed her eyes and slept, content and secure in his arms.


	28. A New Assignment

It was still dark...or maybe it was dark again...when he woke. His head was still throbbing, but the dizziness had passed. He was alone in the room. Getting up, he went into the bathroom, then he returned to the soft warmth of the bed. He was just beginning to doze again when he heard the door open and close. He felt her slide into the bed beside him and he chased away the weariness as best he could. Rolling toward her, he tucked his arm under his head and smiled. She smiled back in the subdued light of the room, touching his cheek. "How are you feeling?"

"All right. How's Cal?"

"I took him over to the hospital for x-rays. He has two fractured ribs and a crack in his clavicle. Nothing too serious. I took him home, and he was planning to return to work in a couple of days."

"Can't keep a good man down."

"So when are _you_ planning to go back to work?"

"In the morning."

"Why am I not surprised?"

"Because you know me?"

She gently poked him and he softly laughed, pulling her into his arms. She settled in, content. He kissed the side of her head and said, "I was wondering..."

When he said nothing more, she pressed, "What are you wondering?"

"Does your offer still stand?"

"Which offer is that?"

"The one that makes me a permanent houseguest."

She ran her fingers along his arm and said, "Are you talking about the one that stops you from being a guest at all?"

"Mmm...Yeah, that's the one."

"In that case, yes. It still stands."

He nodded, but said no more. She turned her head so she could look at him. "Are you still thinking about it?"

"Uh, no...not any more. I'll talk to my landlord tomorrow and call the movers...if you're still sure about it."

"I was never not sure about it. You were the one with doubts."

"Not doubts, Barb. It's just...a big step for me."

"Haven't you ever lived with anyone?"

He shook his head. "I was never willing to give up my privacy. I always needed a place to go...my own space...something I never had to share with anyone."

She had always understood how intensely private he tended to be. "You don't have to give it up now, you know. It was just a suggestion...no pressure."

"I know. But this is something I want to do." He sighed. "The whole time I was away, all I could think about was getting home, and it wasn't my apartment I was thinking of. It's been awhile since I thought of it as home. Home...is here, because here is where you are. That's all I need. You. So I decided, if you were still willing, I'm ready to give up my apartment."

"What about your privacy?"

"That...doesn't matter so much any more."

"I'll tell you what. The study...that's your space. If you need to be alone, just go in there and close the door. I'll respect that. So you won't have to give up your privacy."

"That's not necessary."

"Yes, it is. Trust me. I have watched you over the past few years, and knowing you better, I can see how you have handled things that are difficult for you. Maybe you don't think you need it now, but you will. So I'm giving it to you. When you feel the need to retreat, you'll have a place to go. And when you're ready to face my questions about what's troubling you, then you can come out."

He laughed quietly. "All right. It's a deal."

She snuggled into his arms and he kissed her temple. For a change, he didn't have too much trouble drifting off to sleep.

* * *

Eames was surprised to find a cup of coffee and a white wax bag with a cherry danish inside it sitting in the middle of her desk. Her partner's leather portfolio was sitting off to the side of his desk, beside his own coffee cup. She looked around the squad room but he was nowhere in sight. Sitting at her desk, she decided to eat her breakfast. He'd be back soon. 

She wasn't wrong. Ten minutes later, he dropped into his chair as she examined the contents of a folder that had been placed in her inbox. She looked up and studied his bruised face. "You're still a mess. Why didn't you take a few more days off? No one would have questioned your right to them."

"It's lonely around the house when she's at work," he explained as he opened his portfolio. Then he jumped right in to talking about the case, and she let him. He didn't feel like being badgered about returning to work too soon, and she understood that. He tapped his pen on the paper in front of him as he talked. "Cal told me that Rico is in New Jersey. His father owns a couple of casinos in Atlantic City and he's running one of them. His brothers and his sisters' husbands run the others. What are the odds that every employee in the place will swear on his life that Rico was there the night Lonnie went into the river?"

"I'd believe the swearing on their lives part." She lifted the folder off the desk in front of her. "Here are the ballistics on the second slug. We have a weapon match. A Python belonging to Patrolman Nelson Bradford, killed in the line of duty last year, a probable hit. His weapon went missing when he was killed."

"Anything tying Rico to it?"

"No."

He rubbed his forehead. "Damn."

"Are you surprised?"

"No. What else do we have?"

"Try nothing."

"They figure out where he went in the river?"

"Probably about a half mile upstream from where he was pulled out. That tells us next to nothing. Bobby, we may not be able to tie Rico to this. Sometimes...you just have to figure out when to let it go."

"I can't shake the feeling that Rico did this."

"Carver may buy that, but a jury won't."

"I know, Eames. I know."

"So what do we do?"

"We keep digging."

"We have been digging, and it's getting us nowhere. We have a huge hole and a mountain of dirt with nothing in it."

"So we look again. Everyone makes mistakes. We just have to find Rico's."

"He covered his tracks pretty well."

"So we uncover them."

Eames shook her head. There was no reasoning with him when he got like this. So she stopped arguing and divided the reports in front of her into two slightly uneven stacks. She gave him the larger stack, and he never noticed.

* * *

As the day progressed and they got nowhere, his irritation increased. She could tell his headache was worsening as well and was about to tell him to go home and go to bed when Deakins, who had been conspicuously absent all afternoon, stormed off the elevators. As he headed for his office, he barked, "Eames, Goren, my office. Now." 

As they entered the office, it was unclear if Deakins was angry or in pain...or both. The captain looked at Goren. "First of all, what the hell were you thinking?"

"I was meeting a contact. What happened was...unexpected."

"Really?" His tone was uncharacteristically sarcastic. "Calhoun was your contact?"

"Yes. He has had tabs on the Gambisi boys for a long time."

"Did you find out anything?"

"Only that Rico can fabricate an alibi."

"Are you certain he is involved in this murder?"

"I am, yes."

Deakins shifted his eyes toward Eames. "And you?"

"I'm going along with him for lack of any reason not to. I trust his gut."

"Of course you do." He pulled a pill bottle from his desk drawer and dumped two pills into his hand, swallowing them with cold coffee. "I spent the entire afternoon with the chief of detectives and Captain Marshall from narcotics. They want you, Goren."

Goren frowned. "What?"

"As of this afternoon, you are temporarily on loan to narcotics."

"No. I have a case here."

"They are hoping this assignment will solve that case and eliminate a big headache for the department."

"I don't want a different assignment."

"The chief didn't ask me, and I am not asking you. It's a done deal. Eames is going to bring all your evidence together in a nice water-tight bundle for the DA. You are going undercover with Calhoun to take down these local dealers who have been nabbing our guys...and hopefully nab Rico Gambisi in the process."

"I thought they decided Rico wasn't involved."

"They changed their minds. Calhoun is due back in the field tomorrow, and you're going with him."

"If I refuse?"

"You don't want to go there. Now get out of here, both of you."

Eames could tell from the way her partner moved that he was furious. "Bobby..." she started.

He cut her off with a sharp movement of his hand. "Save it, Eames. I'm going home."

She watched him snatch up his portfolio and, bypassing the elevators, slam open the door to the stairwell. The door closed behind him and she let him go. He'd call her later, after he'd had a chance to cool down. She gathered together the files for the case and headed for the elevators.

* * *

When Barb got home that night, he was laying on the couch, a glass propped on his chest, untouched. He was staring at the ceiling, lost in thought. She gently ran her hand through his hair as she passed him on her way to the kitchen. She was used to finding him like this while he worked a case. 

He sat up and moved his legs when she returned to the couch with a drink and sat down. "What's going on?" she asked.

He placed his glass, still full, on the coffee table. "I, um...I have to come to a decision."

"About what?"

"I've been...ordered into an undercover assignment, going after the bastards who grabbed us the other day."

She tried to hide her alarm. "If it's an order, what decision could you possibly have to make?"

"I could refuse it."

"And what would that mean?"

"My badge."

"Bobby, why would you even consider that?"

"I don't want to do this to you. You have enough going on without me adding this to it."

She shook her head. "No. Don't..."

He waved a hand at her, sliding his badge from his belt and tossing it onto the coffee table. "There it is."

She took a deep breath. Slowly releasing it, she leaned forward and picked up the gold shield. Gently, she slid it back onto his belt. "Bobby, this is more than just your job. It has defined who you are for your entire adult life. Do not put it in jeopardy because of me."

"But..."

She shook her head. "No 'buts'." She took his hands in hers, slowly moving her thumbs along the edge of his fingers. "I will never make you choose."

"You're not. It's my decision."

"And it's the wrong one. Take the assignment."

"It's dangerous..."

"And exactly which part of your job isn't dangerous? One of the worst days of my life, believe it or not, was the day they brought you into the ER with that bullet in your chest." He closed his eyes and she squeezed his hands. "Look at me."

He did as she asked and she continued, "I will worry about you, but I always worry about you. It goes hand in hand with loving a cop. You love your job. Don't throw it away over nothing."

"I love you more."

"I know you do; that's what matters."

"I don't know how long I'll be out of touch."

"Only for as long as you have to be."

He withdrew his hands and scrubbed his face wearily, ignoring the protest of pain from the still healing bruises and lacerations on it. Propping his elbows on his knees, he looked at the floor. "Haven't I caused you enough worry?"

"Of course not. And I accept that. Take this assignment, get it done, and move on. What else can you do...and turning your badge in is not an option. I'm not going to let you do that. Got it?"

The corner of his mouth turned up in amusement. "Got it." He pulled her into a hug. "I don't want to worry you."

"I know you don't, but it's inevitable. When are you supposed to start?"

"Tomorrow." He kissed her forehead. "I'll try to be done with this before Brian comes home."

"If you can't, it's all right. Don't get reckless."

"If you need something...anything...promise me you'll call Alex."

"She's not going with you?"

"No. She's going to be working on the evidence. Right now the case is full of holes. She's going to try to close as many of them as she can."

"Will she know anything about where you are?"

"I don't know. Maybe. If she hears from me, she'll tell you. Calling you may put you at risk, and I won't do that. If it may put any of us in jeopardy, I won't call the squad either, so it's possible you may not hear anything. Still want me to go?"

"Nice try," she smiled. "It's not that I want you to go. I just know you have to. I'll stay in touch with Alex." She touched his cheek. "I will miss you, Bobby."

He nodded and leaned his cheek into her hand. "I'll miss you, too," he said softly.

She got up from the couch and he watched her cross the room to the stereo against the far wall. She pulled a CD off the shelf above the stereo and took it out of its case. Slipping it into the tray, she chose the track she wanted and pressed 'play'. As the haunting strains of _Unchained Melody_ filled the room, she returned to him and took his hand. He stood up and stepped into her, pressing his body against hers. Resting her head against his chest, she closed her eyes and let him guide her slowly around the room as the song played. Placing a finger under her chin, he guided her face up toward his and kissed her.

_Lonely rivers sigh 'wait for me, wait for me'  
I'll be coming home wait for me_

_Oh, my love...my darling...I've hungered for your touch..._

_

* * *

_

_Unchained Melody _is by The Righteous Brothers.


	29. Saying Goodbye

He slid out of bed early the next morning without waking her. It was her day off, and if she wanted to sleep in, she should be able to. He got into the shower, and he thought about her. He honestly would have turned in his badge rather than take this assignment if she had objected to it. That was something he had never been willing to do before. He loved his job, and he always had. His mother had never agreed with his career choice. She felt his brilliance was being wasted as a police officer. But being a cop, a profiler, was his niche. He loved it and he was very good at it. But he would have given it all up at a word from the woman who was sleeping in the next room. That only served to reinforce the decisions he'd made in the dockyards. He felt good about this...about him and Barb. Everything felt...right.

He dressed quietly in jeans and a flannel shirt, laying his army jacket over the back of a chair. Quietly, he picked up his gun from the dresser and slipped it into the waistband of his jeans at the small of his back. His switchblade went into his front pocket, along with his loose change. He took a few bills from his wallet, a ten, two fives and several ones, and put them in the other pocket along with his badge. But he left behind his wallet and his phone. He sat on the bed to tie the laces of his work boots, and then he turned to look at Barb. He watched her sleep for a long time before finally leaning over to kiss her. She stirred, sliding her hand into his still-damp hair. Her eyes opened. "Morning already?"

"Unfortunately. Last chance, baby. Say the word..."

Her fingers played lightly over his lips. "I told you that I will never come between you and your job. I meant that."

"And I told you I will not let the job come between us ever again. I meant that."

"It's not coming between us. You are going to go and do whatever you have to do and then you'll come home. Kind of like a business trip."

He laughed, and there was genuine amusement in his eyes. "I guess that's one way to look at it."

"Don't worry about me. I'll be fine. I'll miss you and, yes, I'll worry about you. But I'll be here, waiting for you, when you come home. I will never stop loving you."

Reassured, he leaned down and kissed her again. With great reluctance, he drew back. "I'd better get going. If I can, I'll call in to the squad room and talk to Alex or the captain. Someone will let you know if they hear from me. But that may not happen. We'll have to see how it goes. I can't risk any lives."

"I would never expect you to. Do what you have to do. I'll see you when you come home."

Another kiss and he rose, grabbing his jacket. He stopped at the door to look back at her. "I love you, Barb."

She smiled at him. "I love you, too. Be careful, Bobby."

He nodded and left. She settled back into the pillows and pulled the blanket up around her. She drew in a deep breath, releasing it slowly. She wasn't at all certain how she felt about this, but of one thing she _was_ certain. She had done the right thing. She really had not wanted to let him go, but she knew that she had to. He was still stumbling over his uncertainty, and in pushing him to do what his job required, whether it was something they liked or not, she was further solidifying their relationship in his mind. It was one more step toward dispelling the uncertainty she was responsible for. He had to realize that she loved him unconditionally and no matter what happened, that was never going to change. He had captured her heart and she didn't want it back.

* * *

Goren walked into the squad room, relieved to see his partner at her desk. He stopped and looked at her, leaning against the desk as he set a Starbuck's cup and a bag containing a cherry danish beside her laptop. She looked up at him, and he gave her a sheepish grin. "I-I'm sorry, Eames. I was going to call you last night, but I...um..." He rubbed the back of his neck. "I got distracted."

Eames smiled. She studied his clothes and said, "You're going?"

"You knew I would."

"How does Barb feel about it?"

"Actually, she talked me out of turning in my badge."

Eames wasn't sure what to make of that, but she smiled. "I'm going to take her to dinner."

He laughed, then he got serious again. "I won't let anything come between us again, Alex," he said softly. "I'm not going to lose her."

"I don't think you're in any danger of that, Bobby. She wants you to do this?"

"Not necessarily, but she knows I have to do it. We're...we're okay. Actually, better than okay. Everything is good." He sighed. "I need to get going. Cal's waiting for me. I just wanted to come by and apologize for yesterday, and for not calling." He hesitated. "Eames...would you mind...uh, would you... keep in touch with Barb? Just...make sure she's okay for me."

Eames smiled warmly at her partner. "Don't worry about Barb. She'll be fine. And, yes, Bobby, I'll call her. You just make sure you watch your back and stay safe."

He squeezed her shoulder. "Don't worry about me. Do everything you can with that evidence and I'll bring in Rico. I want to nail him for this murder."

"No promises. I'll do my best."

"That's good enough for me." He winked at her. "See you in a few days, Eames."

She watched him head for the elevators. "Be careful," she called after him. He turned and grinned, then got on the elevator and he was gone.

* * *

Cal looked up from his desk in the narcotics squad room as Goren approached. "Good morning, Bobby. I'm almost ready."

Goren nodded. "Take your time, old man."

The older cop laughed and finished with his paperwork. Then he stood up and walked around the desk, leaning back against the front of the desk and looking at his former squadmate. "I will admit, I was surprised when the captain told me he was bringing you back on board for this bust."

"You and me both, buddy. How are your ribs?"

"Sore as hell. But I can function." He folded his arms across his chest. "Now can you tell me how this is supposed to help your case?"

"My partner is tying up the loose ends of our evidence and I'm looking for something to tie Rico to this drug ring. If we can wrap it all up into one neat package, we can kill two birds with one stone."

"You may need an awfully big stone, pal. I've seen nothin' to tie Rico to this."

"Somewhere the chief got the idea that Rico is involved. Now he's looking for me to pull a rabbit out of a hat."

Cal shook his head. "He expects a hell of a lot."

"Yeah. Welcome to my world."

"He's gotta remember the work you did when you were with us."

"I'm sure he does."

"Well, we'll do our best to make sure this rabbit doesn't vanish down the rabbit hole. If Rico shows, and we nail him, we already agreed that the collar's yours."

"I don't care about that. I just want to get him."

Cal grinned. "Yeah, but if you get the collar, Rico goes to Major Case for processing and interrogation. Your collar, your headache."

"Thanks. Just what I need...another headache."

With a laugh, he gave Goren's shoulder a playful punch, relieved when the somber cop finally smiled. "Hey, you guys are used to that kind of high profile arrest. We don't need to have our guys' pictures plastered all over the news. Not many of 'em have the ability to blend in and disappear that you have." He squeezed Goren's arm. "Well, let's get you introduced to the team so no one accidentally gets shot when this thing goes down. You probably remember some of the guys. I know they remember you. C'mon."

Goren followed him down a narrow hallway to one of the conference rooms. Eight men looked up when they came into the room. "Hey, guys," Cal said. "I know some of you remember Bobby. He's with Major Case now, but the chief wants him on this detail." Cal sat on the table and began with the youngest cop in the room. "Buster there is our rookie. This is his first operation." He went around the room, introducing each man as he went. Goren remembered the five guys who had been in the unit when he was there. Three of them had worked with him on the stings he'd run. Cal had worked with him on all three stings, and they owed each other their lives several times over. He trusted Cal.

When the introductions were done, Cal said, "You guys know the neighborhood we're heading into. Watch your backs and be careful. Stay in contact. When the bust goes down, watch each other's backs. And remember...Gambisi belongs to Major Case. The other guys are ours." He stood up. "Let's go, boys. We have a job to do."

Every one of them knew what was at stake...these dealers were cop killers. They were all at mortal risk until these dogs were in the kennel. What had them even more on edge was the possibility of Gambisi involvement. That was never a good thing when organized crime was involved in one of their operations. It meant there was a good chance, a very good chance, that not all of them would come home.


	30. Waiting

Thunder erupted from the sky, shattering the quiet neighborhood night as Barb made her way through the heavy rain from the car to the porch. Entering the house, she was once again struck by how much emptier it seemed, especially with the storm raging about outside. She stood for a moment in front of the door after she'd closed it. She had not thought it possible for the house to seem any more empty without Bobby there. But it did. If he had not been on this assignment, he would have been home, with a fire waiting in the fireplace along with a nice glass of wine, something good to eat and a warm welcome. She hung her raincoat on the coat rack in the corner of the small foyer and removed her boots, leaving them beside the rack.

She walked into the kitchen and opened the refrigerator. Once again, she was unable to make herself eat even a small dinner. She was lucky if she was able to manage a sandwich at lunch. The house was chilly, and she was concerned about the unseasonably cool weather they were having, coupled together with the storm. She hoped he was able to find shelter somewhere from the cold and the rain. It was the third day in a row of this unpleasant weather with no end in the forecast, and she was concerned. He'd been gone for barely a week, and the weather had been terrible, but she felt ridiculous worrying that he was going to get sick when there was a very real chance he might not come home at all. With a shudder, she refused to dwell on that and went back to being concerned that he would get sick. It was a much better alternative. Sick he would recover from.

She was surprised when the doorbell rang. She closed the refrigerator and went to the door, looking out the window beside it to see who was there at this hour. She opened the door to let Eames and Teddy in from the storm. "Come in, guys. What brings you here so late?"

"We went out to dinner and were in the neighborhood. We thought you might like some company for a little while," Eames answered.

"That was very thoughtful."

They followed her into the living room. Teddy looked toward the fireplace. "Would you like me to start a fire for you, Barb?"

She hesitated for a moment before she nodded. "That would be nice, Teddy. I'll make some coffee."

Eames followed her into the kitchen, leaning against the counter as Barb took the coffee out of the cabinet near the sink. "How are you doing, Barb?"

"I'm fine." She placed a filter in the basket of the coffee maker, then looked at Eames. "Alex...do you think...I mean, with the storm, and all the rain we've had this week, as cold as it is..." She trailed off, leaving her question unspoken.

Eames understood. "I'm sure he's fine. He's been undercover on the streets in worse weather than this. He worked narcotics for four years."

"Have you heard anything?"

"Not yet."

"Do you have any idea how long this could take?"

"No. I wish I did." She watched Barb measure the coffee into the basket and decided to change the subject. "Have you heard from Brian?"

"I talked to him last night."

"How is he doing?"

"He's okay right now. But the pain has started."

"I'm sorry to hear that. How long before he gets here?"

"Two weeks."

Eames frowned at her tone. "Is something else wrong?"

Barb finished setting up the coffee pot. With Bobby gone, she had no one to confide in, and this was something that was troubling her. She was struggling with his absence, but she was not blaming him for it. She was simply anxious for him to come home. She missed the late nights, when he would hold her and they would discuss the things that troubled them. She would talk about Brian's illness, and he had finally begun to talk about his mother's. Eames lightly touched her arm. "Barb?"

Finally, she sighed deeply, deciding that since Bobby wasn't there, she could talk to his best friend. "The cancer is progressing...just like it did with his father. I don't think..." She stopped and watched the coffee run into the pot. "I talked to his oncologist this afternoon. He probably won't make it to Christmas."

Eames mentally kicked herself for choosing a subject that was just as painful. "Oh, Barb...I am so sorry..."

She nodded. "So am I, Alex. I'm looking forward to having him here, and yet I'm not, and I feel guilty about that. I...I really dread what's coming."

"I can't blame you for that." She was quiet for a moment. "Bobby should be home before Brian gets here."

"He said he would try. But I don't want him to get reckless..."

"He won't. He's not going to put anyone at risk or jeopardize the operation. That's why we haven't heard from him. It's too risky."

"You know, Alex...with everything at risk here...this is so stupid...but it's been so cold the past few days, and all the rain...I worry...about him getting sick..."

Eames laughed softly. "It's not stupid. It gives you a focus away from the danger they're in."

Teddy appeared in the doorway. "Fire's going."

Barb smiled at him. "Thank you, Teddy."

He nodded and leaned against the doorjamb. "I have something to tell you girls. We started a new site this week. It's not in a great neighborhood, but they're trying to improve some of these areas with new construction, and the boss won the bids with the city, so he dumped this baby in my lap. We have three uniformed officers on site, if that gives you a clue. I've worked sites like this before...we aren't targets. Most folks welcome the improvements. Anyway...when I was taking my lunch, someone came up to talk to me. I thought it was one of the homeless guys who often come around at lunchtime, looking for handouts." He looked from one woman to the other. "It was Bobby, girls. I swear, I didn't realize it was him until he said 'Hi, Teddy.' He takes this undercover stuff seriously; I didn't recognize him. He asked me to let you both know he's okay." He met Barb's eyes. "He's worried about you, Barb. He said to tell you that he loves you, and he really misses you. That was it."

"How did he look, Teddy? Was he really okay?"

"Yeah, he was okay. He looked tired, but otherwise fine."

Barb closed her eyes, and Eames smiled at him. "Thank you, Teddy."

"Sorry I didn't say anything earlier. I wanted to tell you both together."

They stayed for about an hour before they left for home. Barb cleaned up the coffee pot and cups, then went upstairs to the bedroom and changed into her favorite flannel pajamas. She snuggled down into the pillows on his side of the bed, breathing in the lingering scent of his cologne. She felt reassured that he'd managed to get word to them through Teddy and she was relieved that he seemed to be all right. But she didn't worry any less, and, in fact, she missed him more. As far as she was concerned, he couldn't get home soon enough...and she had every intention of showing him just how much he meant to her when he got there.

* * *

The rain was cold and the storm was worsening. Goren and Cal found shelter from the brunt of the weather in a small alley between two brick buildings. Cal rubbed his hands together. "Shit, I wish it'd warm up just a little."

"It could be worse."

"Really?"

"It could be snow."

"If it gets any colder, it will be."

Goren smiled. "The deal's going down soon, Cal. That'll bring Rico up from the casino."

"It sure will. After his buddies screwed up the last big deal, he was really pissed. That's when they started grabbing our guys. He's gonna make sure it all goes down without a hitch this time. I really was shocked to find out there is Gambisi involvement in this after all. I wonder if Carlo knows."

"Somehow I doubt it. This isn't his style. I guess both Rico and Carlo will be in for a big surprise."

Cal laughed. "That's an understatement." He sat down in the lee of the building, as much out of the wind as he could get, and Goren dropped down beside him. Cal nudged him. "Do you miss this at all?"

"Sometimes."

"Ever think about coming back?"

"No. I like Major Case...and I...I couldn't do this full time any more."

Goren knew that Cal understood where he was coming from. His life was different now. Back when he worked narcotics, he hadn't had anyone to worry about him. His mother had long been too self-involved to worry much about him. She was more concerned with how he was meeting her needs than worrying about what he was doing when he wasn't visiting her. If anything had happened to him, she would have been angry at best, but he would have left her well-provided-for.

Now, though, there was too much at stake for him to hit the streets like this on a regular basis. The guilt would kill him faster than the streets would. He was glad he'd been able to talk to Teddy, to get word to Eames and Barb that he was all right. He knew they'd be worried and it drove him nuts that there wasn't much he could do about that. More than anything else, it was for those two women that he would never work out on the streets again.

There wasn't a lot for them to do right now...not until they got word of when the deal they were waiting for was going down. So they intermingled with the street people, to the point that they couldn't be differentiated from them. A vital part of their job was to establish their covers, so they would be in the loop when word of the deal hit the streets. It was time consuming, and Goren hated that part of it. It simply took too damn long.

He watched Cal hunker down and try to get some sleep, but he didn't. He wasn't sleeping much; he never did when he was on the streets. It was a lot easier to look stoned when your eyes were bloodshot, even if lack of sleep was the cause. And then there were the dreams...dreams he struggled to avoid because of the emptiness he felt when he woke from them, as if that was the worst part. He also felt a deep longing that he was powerless to satisfy. He almost preferred the nightmares those dreams chased away. He used to dread sleep because that was when the nightmares came. Then he began to welcome it, because it brought her to him. Now, he was back to dreading it for the exact same reason. Every time he woke, the emptiness and longing were like a physical pain. It was much simpler to just not sleep until utter exhaustion took its toll. Then, there were no dreams.

* * *

Eames had done everything she could with the evidence they had. Now it was all on Goren. She still wondered how nailing Rico for involvement with this drug ring would get him for the murder of his friend. Putting him behind bars for whatever reason was good enough for her, but Goren was convinced he'd murdered Lonnie Burquardt, and he wanted Rico to do time for that. It was just a matter of semantics as far as she was concerned, but her partner could be a stickler for details. They'd just have to wait and see how it played out, both on the street and in the interrogation room. Maybe Bobby could do his dance with this devil and get the results he wanted. She had faith that he could...as long as he came home from the streets. 


	31. A Storm Arrives

The rain had stopped for a few days, giving a welcome reprieve to the men on the streets. They came and went in a seemingly aimless manner over a ten-block area, associating with each other in groups of no more than two or three. Goren desperately wanted to talk to Teddy again, both to give and receive reassurance, but he did not dare risk forming any noticeable association with any civilian, not with Rico Gambisi involved. In particular, he did not want to bring anything down on his partner's boyfriend. And so, in misery, he waited as the time passed.

He was alone in the dark alley, and he welcomed the solitude. Cal was wandering about, checking on everyone, since he was the lead officer of the operation. He remembered those days. _Keep an eye on the team, and make absolutely certain that everyone knows what to do when the time comes._ One mistake at the wrong time could spell disaster for the entire team and cost them an important collar...or worse...

The overcast sky threatened rain again, and the temperature was dropping. That was not good. He leaned back against the building and turned his attention to the far corner of the alley, where movement caught his eye. The smallest, furriest cat he had ever seen crouched close to the ground, stalking a rat bigger than it was. It wasn't more than a kitten, and it had the sense of a kitten. It pounced and missed. The rat ignored it. He watched the little cat climb onto a stack of crates and study its prey. Feline instinct: _get above your prey and pounce._ But due to a miscalculation in its baby brain, it took a flying leap at the rat and disappeared into an open garbage can. Goren laughed. It was the first good laugh he'd had since leaving Barb for this assignment.

He heard it rustling around in the garbage can, then watched as two little gray paws appeared on the rim of the can, followed by a little body, which could not keep its balance. It wasn't heavy enough to upset the can, so it tumbled over the edge directly onto the rat it was after, which took off and sent the kitten tumbling. Shaking itself off, the kitten's posturing clearly sent the message: _I meant to do that_.

The laughing man caught its attention and it looked at him, curious. It had to be wondering if he was a source of food. Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out the sandwich Cal had given him before taking off to make his rounds. The rustle of the plastic wrap drew the hungry, curious kitten closer. Taking a better look at it, Goren decided it wasn't more than a few months old and much smaller than it appeared. It was gray, with long fluffy hair and bright eyes. It seemed healthy. Its hair wasn't matted and both eyes and nose were clear and free of discharge. It didn't seem to be a street cat. In fact, he was certain it was not. It was already too close to him to have been raised on the streets. He took a piece of ham from the sandwich and set it on his thigh. Cautiously, the kitten crept forward, sniffing at the meat. It looked from the ham to the man and back before finally snagging the meat, pulling it to the ground and devouring it. Next, Goren broke off a piece of cheese and held it down beside him, to see if the little thing would come close enough to take the cheese from his hand. It did. The next piece of cheese he held in his lap and, finally, the kitten climbed up onto his leg and took the cheese from him. It sat down on his thigh and looked at him, mewing for more. He gave a little more than half the sandwich to the tiny creature, who then kneaded his thigh, snuggled itself into his lap and went to sleep, purring. He gently caressed the soft fur and, for the first time since leaving home, he did not feel so utterly lonely.

When Cal returned to the alley a few hours later, he was glad to see Goren finally sleeping, but he had to take a second look at the small pile of gray fur nestled under his chin. With a soft laugh, Cal muttered, "I'll be damned."

* * *

It was difficult to keep track of time out on the streets, but Goren had always been pretty good at it. In his estimation, they had been out for about ten days. It seemed like forever. It had not taken long for the familiarity of undercover work to return, and already it was difficult to remember what a soft bed and a soft body felt like. Difficult, but not impossible. He found himself lost in memories of home while the kitten sat on his lap, eating his tuna sandwich, which was fine with him. He didn't care much for tuna. 

He looked up when a startled kitten popped vertically up from its meal and growled. He laughed and looked at the man who had startled it by dropping to the ground near him. "Hey, rookie."

Buster grinned at him, then looked more closely at the cat. "There's a real cat under all that fur?"

"As much as she eats, I'd expect her to be about the size of a lion."

"You got a cold?"

Goren shook his head with a grin. "Allergies."

"To the cat?" He nodded. Buster shook his head. "So why keep it around?"

"Who else does she have? She's just a baby. Besides, I'm used to it. My girlfriend has a cat."

"Tell her to get rid of it."

Goren raised his eyebrows at that. "First of all, I never _tell_ her to do anything. Secondly, she's had the cat longer than she's had me. He has seniority. I'm not going to make her give him up because I'm a little uncomfortable. I pop a couple of Claritin and I'm good."

"You must really love this chick."

"She's a woman, rookie. Not a chick. And yes, I do."

Buster nodded slowly. "Sorry, man." He decided it was time to change the subject. "You've done this before, Bobby. Any idea how much longer we have to sit out here in the rain and the garbage before the deal goes down?"

"I have no idea, but my gut says soon."

"How accurate is your gut?"

"Pretty damn accurate," came a voice from behind them. The cat meowed at the familiar voice as Cal dropped down next to Goren and ruffled her long fur. She swatted at his hand. He pushed her over and rubbed her belly, laughing when she bit him. "Vicious little monster."

Goren laughed. "Not really. You're antagonizing her."

Cal withdrew his hand and she swatted at it again. Then she climbed up Goren's jacket and perched on his shoulder, licking his ear. He laughed and took her down, gently putting her into his pocket, where she curled up and went to sleep. Cal laughed again, a genuine laugh of good humor. "Damn cat lives in his pocket," he told Buster. He nudged Goren. "You name her yet?"

"I've been calling her Storm. Her coloring reminds me of a stormy sky...and so does her personality."

"Sounds like a good name for her."

Cal never complained about the cat, even on the rare occasions that she left Goren's side to walk over to him and torment him while he was sleeping. He would grumble at his friend to keep his pet on his side of the alley, and Goren would call the little cat back to his side. The only member of the team who spent most of the time warm and dry, she would curl up with him and return to sleep. For some reason, the tiny animal settled Goren, and Cal was glad to see it. He knew Goren was unhappy, no longer used to being away from home, but somehow, the baby cat made his time away from Barb a little more tolerable. For that reason, Cal welcomed Storm. Besides, the kitten's antics amused them to no end. It felt good to laugh once in awhile in spite of the misery of their situation. They quickly became very fond of the tiny furball that was almost always to be found in the pocket of Goren's jacket or riding on the big cop's broad shoulder.


	32. Diversions

**A/N: Rainy angellz and deliriousdancer asked for more about Teddy. So the first part of this chapter is for you, guys.**

* * *

Eames pushed her food around on her plate without interest, her mind wandering. When a gentle, calloused hand came to rest over hers, she looked up with a warm smile. "I guess I'm not very good company tonight." 

Teddy smiled back at her. "Have you heard anything?"

"Not a word. The captain has even put out feelers, but nothing. They've got to be pretty deep undercover."

"I've been watching, but I haven't seen him."

"You won't. He took a risk making contact the first time. He won't do that again."

"I was hoping he would. I hate to see what this is doing to you and Barb."

Eames nodded in agreement. More than a week had passed since Bobby had talked to Teddy. Fifteen days in the field, living on the city streets, undercover, forced to be away from the people he loved. Knowing how his mind worked, and familiar with the fading but still present uncertainty he felt about his deepening relationship with Barb, she worried about his mindset. "I'm just worried about him, but for Barb, this was incredibly bad timing. Brian is going to be here in a few days, and she's getting nervous. She doesn't want to face this alone, but she may have to."

"Tell me, Alex. What are the chances that Bobby isn't going to come home?"

She looked back at her untouched dinner. "I try not to think about that. Targeting Rico Gambisi is not the smartest thing he's ever done, but he's determined. Bobby has a strong sense of justice and an even stronger sense of invincibility, almost like a teenager."

Teddy chuckled softly. "That's a guy thing. None of us think we can be hurt until it happens."

"And then after it happens?"

He smiled and shrugged. "We forget."

"Is that what it is? You forget?"

"What can I say, sweetheart?"

"Not a word, Teddy."

"Would you want him any different?"

She smiled. "No. I'm kind of at a loss without him to chase around. It's kind of like my hyperactive child has gone to camp."

In the middle of taking a drink, Teddy choked. He pressed a napkin against his mouth and nose and struggled to catch his breath. "Are you okay?" she asked, trying to hide her amusement until she was certain he was all right.

"Fine," he managed, wiping off the lower half of his face. "I've never had beer come out of my nose before." With a chuckle, he added, "You give me all kinds of new experiences, Alex."

She laughed. "No one has ever called me boring."

He took her hand and squeezed it. "No, you are definitely not boring."

With her finger, she lightly traced a vein on the back of his hand. He eased out his breath and kissed her hand. "So how does a great woman like you go all this time without getting snatched up and married?" he teased.

"I was married, remember? I've just had trouble finding the right guy since Joe died."

"What about me?"

"You found _me_, remember?"

"But _you_ said yes." His face slid into a mischievous grin. "After you checked out my background."

Her face flushed. "Did Bobby tell you that?"

"No. I figured it out on my own after listening to a few of your dating horror stories. It just made sense to me that you would finally take the time to make sure I wasn't married or some kind of documented asshole."

"And you weren't offended?"

"Not at all. You have to be careful these days. But you can't tell me every guy you dated since Joe has been a loser."

"No, they haven't. But the few good ones couldn't handle my friendship with Bobby. I can't tell you how happy I am that you don't resent him."

"Why would I resent him?"

"Every other man in New York seems to."

He chuckled again. "Alex, I have four sisters. If I blew a really great relationship because of petty jealousy, I'd get my ass beat four times over. I've seen them with boyfriends and with guy friends, and I understand the difference. Besides, I've seen him with you and I've seen him with Barb. I've got nothing to worry about."

He had told her about his sisters, two older than he and two younger. The oldest, Kathy, and the youngest, Melanie, were both happily married. Kathy had two sons and Melanie was expecting her first child in the early spring. The middle daughters, both close to him in age, were Trish and Mattie, and they had difficulty finding the right men to make them happy, a lot like Alex before she met Teddy. He often told her that his parents raised them but his sisters taught him how to properly treat women. They'd taught him very well. "I'm glad to hear you say that, and I'm glad Barb feels the same way, because Bobby has had the same trouble I have."

"You like Barb, don't you?"

"Very much."

"And he likes me, right?"

"Yes, he does. He would never have trusted you with a message to us if he didn't. But I do not need Bobby's approval to date anyone any more than he needs mine."

"I know you don't, baby. But it sure makes things easier when your best friend likes the guy you're dating...especially when your best friend is a guy, too."

Remembering an incident from last year, one of her worst dating missteps, she nodded. "You have a point."

Teddy raised his eyebrows. "He's interfered?"

"Oh, no...he knows better. He would never interfere. But he's not afraid to step in if he thinks I need to be protected. One incident comes to mind, and I hate to admit it, but he was right."

"Have I heard this one before?"

"No. This was probably the worst of any of my dating choices."

"What happened?"

"Well, Bobby didn't kill the guy."

Teddy knew how mild-mannered her partner was, and he didn't even want to imagine what could have driven him to that kind of anger, but he was curious. Everything about this beautiful woman had him curious. From the moment she'd first smiled and said hello, he'd been drawn to her. "What'd the guy do to deserve that?"

"I did realize on my own that he was a bastard...a married son-of-a-bitch with a wife, four kids and two dogs. So I broke up with him, and he began stalking me. When Bobby found out, he confronted him, and the dumbass actually pulled a gun on him. That really got Bobby mad. I never want to see him that angry again. I never realized how frightening he can be until then."

"Do I want to know what he did to the guy?"

"What would you have done, Teddy?"

"Me? I would have killed him."

She laughed. "I was relieved that he didn't, but he did put him in the hospital."

"So where is the loser now?"

"In jail, where all the great losers belong. His pretty wife got a clue and a divorce, and now she has a decent boyfriend who's a good role model for her kids. He even walks the dogs."

"Good for her."

"I sure can pick 'em, can't I?"

"Two of my sisters haven't done much better, but I'd like to think you got it right this time around."

She smiled. "I did. I have no doubt about that."

He stood up and walked around to stand behind her. Resting his hands on her shoulders, he leaned down and whispered into her ear, "I'll be right back. Please eat your dinner and try not to worry. You know what he has waiting for him at home. He'll be careful."

"He'll try to be careful, but try doesn't always equal do with him." She sighed softly, worried and frustrated. "The guy overthinks everything, but in the heat of the moment, his brain shuts down and he just reacts. It's the only time I know that his brain ever just shuts down...oh, wait...there's one other time, but Barb's the only one with control over that."

Laughing, he kissed her cheek and brushed his lips across her ear. "There's nothing we can do about it, Alex. Please don't make yourself sick worrying about him. That won't help anyone. Now eat your dinner, and I'll be right back."

Once she got past the first few bites, she found the appetite to finish. By the time Teddy came back into the room, she was nearly done, which pleased him. "Where'd you go?"

"I had to get something. Let's clean up and I'll show you."

After the dishes were done, he led her to the couch and sat beside her. "Alex," he said, his eyes glowing gold in the subdued light. "I know my timing may suck here, but I have my reasons for it. I have given this a lot of thought and everything about it just feels right, no matter how I look at it. I thought about waiting, but nothing is going to change. Maybe this will even give you a break from worrying for just a little while." He took her hand and stroked it with the fingers of his other hand. "Don't think I expect an answer right away; just think about it." He opened a small velvet box and held it out to her. "I don't have a lot to offer, but I do love you. I will do everything I can to make you happy. Please marry me."

She stared at the gold ring in the blue velvet box as her heart skipped a beat. It was a stunningly understated ring, one he knew she would love. "How long do you think I need to think about this, Teddy?"

"Take as long as you need, baby. I can wait. I'm not going anywhere."

"And if I don't need to think about it?"

He brushed her hair back from her face and ran his thumb along her jaw. "Then tell me how you feel."

She paused. How she felt, not what she thought. "I love you," she replied. "And my answer is yes."

With a smile that made his beautiful eyes glow, he slid the ring onto her finger, pulled her into his arms and kissed her.

* * *

The sun had long set and the cold, weary members of the undercover team settled in for another long, cold night on the street. But they were encouraged by street murmurs of a big drug deal that was in the making to go down soon, a deal that was supposed to be drawing some hotshot bigwig from Jersey. Eyes and ears were tuned to the street as they waited for details to become public "knowledge". 

Goren was laying on his back, head and shoulders resting against a partially collapsed cardboard box. Storm was on his chest, chasing a piece of string he'd found for her. Every time she jumped at it and tumbled off his chest, he picked her up and put her back. Cal and Buster lay nearby, lost in their own thoughts as they began to mentally prepare themselves for the upcoming bust. Goren openly welcomed the amusement and distraction Storm provided for him. It gave him a focus away from his loneliness and misery. If it had not been for the kitten, he wasn't sure what state his mind would be in by now. His strong attachment to the tiny furball was surprising and reassuring.

From the shadows on the opposite side of the alley, Cal quietly said, "Hot food."

Goren and Buster both looked at him. "What?" Buster asked.

"Hot food," he repeated. "I want a good, hot meal. I don't give a damn what it is--I'll even take liver and brussels sprouts at this point."

Buster made a face. "I can't say I'm that desperate yet."

"You're still young, and this is your first major undercover operation. You're excited. The boy with his kitty over there falls in between us."

Goren laughed quietly. He took a lot of ribbing because of the little cat, but he took it in stride, and because he did, the other team members, the ones who who knew him more by reputation than experience and remained wary of him, relaxed and warmed up to him. Nine seasoned cops and a rookie, all fawning over a pound or so of gray fur, playing with her, sharing their food with her, teasing Goren because she so obviously preferred him and refused to be separated from him for long. Goren got the impression she let the other guys hang around because they brought her food. He had yet to see his little whirlwind refuse food of any sort.

Buster looked at him in the dim light of the city street that penetrated the darkness from the mouth of the alley. "What about you, Bobby? Liver and brussels sprouts?"

"Not hardly. Actually, I want a hot shower and a warm bed more than anything else."

Cal's eyes sparked with mischief. "And a soft body in that warm bed," he teased.

"You know it," Goren answered with a grin. First things first. Food and sleep were second and third on his list of priorities; Barb was number one.

Buster rubbed his hands together. "At this point, guys, I really don't care. Anything warm and dry sounds great to me. I'm damn tired of being cold and wet. I'm gonna mold here if we don't get going soon. Sometimes I wish I was that cat. She's the only one of us who's warm and dry with a full belly."

Cal laughed. "There's your soft body, Bobby."

"Bite me, Cal."

Cal laughed again. Goren smiled and returned his attention to the kitten on his chest, but his mind remained elsewhere and all he really wanted was to go home.

* * *

Barb hated this time of her day. At work, she was too busy to think about anything else, and that got her through the day. She had not taken a day off since the day after Bobby left. She couldn't handle the time at home alone. When the work day was done, however, she had no choice but to go home and face the loneliness that had never before existed in her home until Brian left. That loneliness vanished when Bobby began coming around, and it disappeared for good when he moved in. Now it was back in spades and she had no idea what to do about it. After Brian left, she derived some comfort from talking to Marcus, who was Brian's cat. But now, not even the cat's affection could comfort her. 

She had spent the better part of the last week arranging the study. The movers had arrived with his things two days after he'd gone undercover, and she had been busy unpacking the boxes of books and placing them in the book cases that lined two walls of the room. The two boxes labelled 'Desk' she'd set in the corner. She was not about to go through the things he kept in his desk; he could do that when he got home. But she was comfortable arranging his books. It gave her a connection to him that she was sorely missing.

She had expected to miss him; she knew that she would. What she did not expect, however, was the overpowering feeling of emptiness that pervaded her life since he left. She tried to eat, but food had absolutely no appeal to her. She'd increased her workout time on Monday, Wednesday and Friday after work, but only because she was avoiding going home. So far she had lost three pounds that she knew she should not be losing, but she didn't know what she could do. She was forcing herself to eat lunch, and she at least had a sandwich for dinner most days, but she was having a hard time finding an interest in anything outside of work.

She had gone to the Harpers' Sunday night for dinner, and to appease them she had eaten, but that was the last full meal she'd had. Alex and Teddy came by more frequently, almost every night now. They wanted to be certain she was all right, but she also knew that Alex was seeking a connection to her absent partner. Barb, too, found a degree of comfort in spending time with Alex. She was an inextricable part of Bobby and Barb appreciated that more now than she ever had before.

Now, laying alone in a bed that suddenly seemed as big as it was empty, she drew his pillow into a hug, like she did every night, and she cried herself to sleep.


	33. A Storm in Full Panic

It was finally time. The word was out on the street that a big deal was going down near the warehouses on the docks. Among the people who lived on the street, it was generally considered a good idea to avoid any area where any sort of drug deal was taking place. With the exception of the ten undercover cops who had been waiting for this, everyone would avoid the area. That made the cops feel better. Nothing was worse than a civilian audience because of the risk an innocent party would be injured or killed. It had happened before, and no cop wanted to be responsible for the next innocent death.

The deal was supposed to take place 'sometime after dark.' But they knew who was involved and they knew who they had to follow in order to find the exact location of the deal. They were lucky that the guy was a dim bulb and was unlikely to notice he was being followed, particularly since these officers knew what they were doing...and Buster was smart enough to listen to his elders. He would stick close to Goren and Cal.

Midnight was approaching and everyone was in place. There were three major dealers in this area, and they were responsible for nearly all the disappearances among the narcotics officers who had been taken. Naturally there were minor dealers who operated under them, but few, if any, of them were likely to be present. They were afraid of Rico Gambisi.

There were eight men in front of the warehouse and the deal was underway. All that remained was for Rico to arrive, and that is what the team waited for...but they were not going to wait too long. They were not going to let these guys slip away whether Rico showed up or not. But if Rico did not show up, Goren was going to really be pissed. It was the prospect of arresting Rico that brought him into this operation in the first place and forced him to be away from home. If Rico chose not to show, he swore he was going to go down to Atlantic City tonight to arrest his ass. He had murdered a man, and Goren did not care what kind of man Lonnie Burquardt had been or why Rico had killed him. It was not his job to make those judgments. It was his job to bring Rico to justice and turn him over to Carver for prosecution...and that was exactly what he was going to do, one way or another. Of course, waltzing into a Gambisi casino to arrest Carlo's favorite son was suicide. He sighed heavily and returned to hoping Rico was going to show.

They had strapped on their wires and grabbed their vests before heading over to the docks. Cal called in for uniformed backup, and they were now in place, waiting several blocks away. No one would move without his order. He called for his guys to move into place.

It was cold and rain threatened, but so far the clouds were keeping their moisture. Cal watched Goren as he pulled off his jacket and gently folded it twice over. "Is she in your pocket?"

He nodded as he set the jacket in the corner of a doorway, well out of harm's way and unlikely to get drenched when the rain started. Cal watched him pull on his vest. Their vests had to be their top level of clothing, to minimize the risk of getting shot. Having the word 'POLICE' in bold white letters blaring off a black vest helped prevent such accidents. Strapping the vest closed, Goren glanced up at Cal. "I have no intention of not walking away from this, Cal. But we both know that shit happens. If anything does happen to me, I want you or the rookie to take her to Barb."

"We can do that, but you're going to take her home yourself, got it? I sure as hell don't want to tell that beautiful lady that I fucked up and got you killed. Somehow, I doubt the little hurricane would be much consolation for her."

Goren didn't even want to think about what it would do to Barb if he never came home. "I know."

Cal eyed the jacket. "Is she gonna stay put?"

"Until she realizes I'm not wearing the jacket, she will."

"Let's hope this is all over by then. I can just see her wandering around a drug bust looking for you."

"Being cute won't hold much water with those guys."

"No shit."

They left the sleeping kitten in his jacket and moved into place, keeping well to the shadows. Cal watched the eight men negotiating in the light of the streetlamps that lined the docks. Rico would make nine, and there was no telling how many bodyguards he would show up with. When a car pulled up and three more men got out, Cal swore. Quietly, he spoke into his mike. "We may be outnumbered as much as two to one, guys. I don't want a single one of these dogs to get away, so be on guard. Uniformed backup is a couple of blocks away. Prepare yourselves. When Gambisi gets here, we're going to move. Just be careful. Know who you're shooting at if you have to pull your trigger, and every damn one of you better be vested. God help anyone who's not. Stand ready." And they waited.

* * *

The limo pulled up to the warehouse and the driver got out. Cal shook his head. "A limo," he whispered. "Now that's inconspicuous." He raised the mike in his sleeve to his mouth. "Rico's here. On my signal." 

There was no mistaking Rico Gambisi as he got out of the car. There was an arrogant, self-assured manner in every movement he made. He spoke to the driver, who got back in the car and drove off, to park someplace out of the way. A second car pulled up to the warehouse and parked. Five men joined him and the two bodyguards who had exited the limo with him. That made nineteen men...almost two to one.

Rico joined the group of dealers and introductions were made. Hands extended in greeting...and Cal gave the word. Ten cops stepped from the shadows, guns drawn and ready, and Cal spoke up. "Rico Gambisi, this is a bust. No one move and no one dies."

Sirens could be heard in the distance. With a muttered epithet, Rico's gun came out of his jacket and the gunfire began.

Everything was confused, but the cops were careful. They were a well-trained group, and they knew what they were doing. Even Buster had the sense to back up his buddies and go after anyone not vested or uniformed. But before the uniformed backup arrived, they were well outnumbered, and that took a toll on their group. By the time the dust settled, bodies littered the ground and only six men were in custody. The guns that littered the site near the bodies of the fallen dealers would clear the cops of any wrong-doing. Fallen among the number of dealers on the ground were five cops.

* * *

The gunfire had woken the kitten. Alarmed and in a near panic, she struggled her way clear of the jacket and scrambled into the night to find Goren. In spite of her panic, it didn't take her long to find him, but something wasn't right. He was laying on the ground, and he didn't respond when she mewed at him. She walked up to his face, reassured by the breath that came from his nose and mouth, but she didn't understand why he wouldn't talk to her. So she climbed up onto his back and sat down, watching what was happening around her. She was alarmed and on guard, still in a panic, and the running and shouting around her did nothing to calm her down. 

A uniformed officer approached the fallen cop and was taken aback to find a little gray cat sitting on his back, above the lettering on his vest. "What the hell...? Shoo, cat."

She stood up and arched her back, fur standing on end, and she growled at him. When he came closer, she progressed to hissing and spitting. He still didn't get the message and reached toward her, toward him, and she lashed out, nailing him in the hand and drawing blood. With a muttered curse, he drew back his hand with the intention of sending the vicious little creature flying.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?"

The cop looked up to see Cal and Buster approaching at a run. Buster had blood running down his face from a head laceration and a bullet had blazed a path of fire through Cal's shoulder, but otherwise they were unharmed. "What?" the cop asked. "This cat won't let me check the guy out."

"We got it. Go tell your sergeant to make sure Gambisi gets booked into Major Case."

"Major Case? Are you sure about that?"

"Did I stutter? Go!"

The uniformed officer took off while Cal and Buster knelt beside Goren and the freaked-out little cat. She was still hissing and spitting. "Calm down, Storm," Buster soothed as Cal leaned down and reached his hand out to check for a pulse.

Storm was still bouncing up and down, growling. Buster was trying to remain serious, but he was failing miserably. Storm meant business but it was so hard to take such a tiny thing seriously, and all puffed up like she was, she looked like an angry tribble. "Is he all right, Cal?"

"I think so. Just grab her."

"Ha! You just grab her."

"Scared of a little cat, Buster?"

"Not any little cat. This one. Look at her."

"Oh, for Pete sake...Storm, come here, you little monster."

As his hand came down to pick her up, panic returned and she began spitting and swatting all over again. Buster frowned. "What the hell is wrong with her?"

"She's terrified. Just leave her be. Help me roll him over."

"And put my face near her?"

"Rookie, if this guy dies because you are afraid of his cat, I swear to God, I'll shoot you myself."

Goren chose that moment to groan and start to move. Storm pounced onto his head and mewed at him. With another groan, he reached up and grabbed her, rolling onto his back and depositing her on his chest. He pressed a hand into the side of his head and swore. Cal touched his arm. "You all right, Bobby?"

He nodded slowly. "I think so."

"Then tell your bodyguard to stand down."

He opened his eyes and looked from Cal to Buster to the calming kitten sitting placidly on his chest. The only evidence remaining that indicated her panic was the tremor that still coursed through her body. Goren slowly sat up and drew the trembling cat to his chest. She pressed her little body into him and mewed. "Poor baby," he murmured.

Cal sat back on his heels. "What happened to you?"

"I must have been hit in the head. I saw you guys take down Rico and I started in that direction, but that's all I remember. My head hurts like hell."

Buster held up three fingers. "How many fingers do you see?"

"Five," Goren answered. "But you're only holding up three." He nodded toward Buster's bloody head. "Are you all right, rookie?"

"Yeah. It's just a graze."

His eyes shifted. "Cal?"

Cal looked at his shoulder. "Nothing too bad. I think the bullet passed clean through my shoulder. I'll get it, and him, looked at before we go into the unit. You ought to get looked at, too."

"I'm fine. I'll have a nurse look me over when I get home."

Cal laughed. "I'm sure you will."

The uniformed officer Cal had chased off returned. "Gambisi is on his way downtown, Detective Calhoun."

"Thanks."

He stared at the now-calm kitten and looked at Goren. "Is that the same cat that was sitting on your back ten minutes ago?"

"She's the only cat around. Why?"

"She wouldn't let me anywhere near you." He held out his hand, revealing a nasty scratch across the back of it. "Scratched the hell out of me when I got too close."

"Uh, sorry about that."

"She was scared out of her mind," Cal explained. "She wouldn't even let us near you."

Goren continued to stroke the little cat and her trembling was gradually subsiding. Cal slapped his shoulder. "Let's get you downtown before Rico lawyers up."

"He probably already has," Buster commented.

"Not necessarily," Goren said as he stood up, suppressing a wince as the pounding in his head increased with a dull ache in his side adding to it. He ignored both. "He's conceited and cocky. He may think he can handle an interrogation." He looked at the officer. "Do me a favor. Call Major Case and tell them to have Detective Eames come in."

"Yes, sir."

The three cops headed away from the scene. Goren continued explaining, "We need to talk to Rico tonight, before his father gets word he's been arrested. Once Carlo finds out, Rico will be untouchable. Eames will knock him off his guard." He hesitated. "Uh, how did we fare, Cal?"

"Not as well as I'd hoped. Ambulances are on the way. We've got four guys down, and they don't look good. You scared me, too, man."

"Sorry about that. Did we get everyone?"

"I don't know yet. I'll let you know."

Goren stopped to grab his jacket, pulling it on and tucking the now-purring little kitten back into his pocket. He felt her settle down into a ball as they headed for the squad cars. Cal shook his hand. "I'll call you in a couple of days and give you the final lowdown. Thanks for the help, Bobby. Tell Barb I said hi."

"I will, Cal." He turned to Buster and shook his hand. "You're gonna do fine in narcotics, rookie. You did a great job out there. Keep it up."

"Thanks, Bobby. I appreciate the advice you gave me."

"Just remember it, and use it."

He walked away, talked briefly with a uniformed patrol officer and got into the car with him. The flashing lights went out and the car pulled away and drove off, away from the dockyards.


	34. A Dangerous Interrogation

Eames waited nervously for the elevator to descend to the parking garage level. It had been one of the longest seventy minutes of her life. Seventy minutes from the conversation that began: _They need you to come in to handle an interrogation, Eames._

"What interrogation, Ethan?"

_They nailed Rico Gambisi._

Her heart stopped. If they got Gambisi, why wasn't Bobby doing the interrogation? "What about Bobby?"

_They didn't say, Alex. All they said was to get you down here to deal with Gambisi. Sorry._

She woke Teddy with a gentle kiss to let him know she'd been called in and set out on a nervous ride in to the squad room. Now she stepped onto the elevator and paced, gaining some understanding into her partner's restless energy. Was he eternally nervous like this? No...with him it was simply unspent energy.

The door slid open and she hurried toward her desk, stopping several paces into the room. Relief flooded through her when she saw the white styrofoam cup sitting on a piece of paper in the middle of her desk. Her knees went weak and she had to wait for a moment before continuing to the desk. She lifted the cup, inhaling the aroma of sweet coffee, just the way she liked it. She picked up the paper, recognizing her partner's scrawl before she read a single word. _Sorry to get you called in so late. This can't wait. I tried to call Barb but she didn't answer. Would you try again? I'll be back shortly and fill you in. love, Bobby_

She smiled and picked up the phone.

* * *

The hot water cascaded over his body and he stood under the water jets for a long time before reaching for the soap. When he'd removed his vest and his shirt, he was surprised to find a large patch of extensive bruising forming over the left side of his abdomen. _Well, hell..._

Examining his vest, he found the spot where the bullet had hit. Thank God for kevlar. Once in the shower, under the heat from the water, blood was drawn to the surface of his skin, making the bruising much more noticeable by the time he toweled off. The throbbing in his head, worsened by fatigue and hunger, had not improved, and he'd found a three-inch long gash in his scalp that told him he had indeed been grazed by a bullet. It had been close...very close. The thought of it churned his stomach and he chased it away. He'd been very lucky.

The last thing he did before leaving the warmth of the hot shower was shave. Back at his locker he put on the aftershave he kept there. He dressed in clean jeans and a dark NYPD sweatshirt, white socks and sneakers. He almost wished he kept a suit here, but dismissed the thought. There was no reason for him to have a suit gather dust in his locker on the odd chance he might need it. He shoved his dirty clothes into a cloth gym bag, except for his green army jacket, hanging carefully in the open locker with an exhausted kitten sleeping in the pocket. He gently pulled the jacket on, closed and secured the locker and grabbed his bag, heading for the elevator.

The coffee cup was gone and he smiled. Eames was here. Dropping the gym bag next to his desk, he slipped off his jacket, hung it on the back of his chair and headed for the observation room adjacent to Interrogation Four, where Rico Gambisi waited for them.

Eames and Deakins looked up when he strolled into the room. Not caring about decorum at four o'clock in the morning, Eames stepped into him and hugged him firmly. He returned her hug. She looked up at him, clean and groomed, and she saw the deep fatigue in his eyes. "How are you?"

"Better now. Did you talk to Barb?"

She shook her head. "I didn't get an answer either."

"Are you sure she's all right? Have you seen her?"

"Calm down. Teddy and I had dinner with her last night. She looked tired, but she'd worked all day. She was fine, I promise."

Deakins clapped him on the shoulder. "Get done with this and go home, Bobby. You did a great job."

"The evidence..."

Eames shrugged. "You know what we have. It is what it is."

"And that's not much," came a deep, calm voice from the doorway. "It's good to see you back, detective."

"Thank you, counsellor."

"Do I need to tell you how much of this case is riding on what happens in that room?"

"No, sir."

"Then get in there before Carlo finds out we grabbed his son. Word is on the way as we speak, I can guarantee."

Goren nodded at his partner and they headed out of the room to talk to Rico.

Gambisi looked up as the door opened. He studied the two detectives, surprised but pleased to discover one was a woman. And despite his well-groomed appearance, her partner was a study in fatigue. This was going to be easy. He leaned back in his chair and folded his arms over his chest, a haughty grin on his face. "How can I help you, detectives?"

Eames took the initiative while her partner hung back, leaning against the wall beside the glass, watching. "What were you doing out on the docks tonight, Rico?"

"My driver got lost."

"So you thought you'd get out of the car and play with the natives?"

"Something like that. I wasn't doing anything wrong."

"You were arrested during a drug bust."

"I have no drugs in my possession nor will you find any in my vehicle. I don't use drugs."

"But you sell them."

He shrugged, neither admitting nor denying it. "I am a business man. I buy and sell many things."

"Let me see if I have this straight. You got bored in the middle of the night, so you left your cozy digs in Atlantic City and drove several hours on a cold, rainy night to a series of questionable dockyards in New York City just for the hell of it."

"Something like that. It was a friendly meeting until your cops came out shooting."

"'Came out shooting'?"

"You don't think one of my people fired the first shot, do you?"

Eames feigned confusion. "How did we get from being lost and running into strangers to them being 'your people'?"

She saw him falter for half a second. "It doesn't matter. You have nothing on me. So I was there? So what?"

From the corner, Goren said quietly, "Lonnie Burquardt."

Caught entirely off guard, Rico's carefully constructed facade crumbled and he glared at Goren. Everyone watching could tell he was shaken by the unexpected mention of his dead friend's name, and they watched him struggle to regain his composure. "I have not seen Lonnie lately."

"Hmmm. That's odd. We were told you and Lonnie were tight. You grew up together, best friends. You took him along as you climbed your dad's corporate ladder. One of 'your people' said Lonnie has his own office and apartment suite at your casino."

"What did Lonnie do? Why are you investigating him?"

Goren knew his questions were not sincere, but Rico had recovered his balance and gave every appearance of being sincere. "Lonnie got himself into some trouble, and he's going to take you down with him."

"What? Take me down...? What the hell are you talking about?"

"Just what I said. He told us..."

Rico jumped to his feet as panic set in. "No! He...I...I saw him go into the river."

"And we saw him come out of the river. Poor form, Rico, not making sure you finish the job."

"What? He survived...?"

Full blown panic hit him hard. Lonnie could get him the death penalty for some of the things he'd done. Goren shrugged, as calm as Eames had ever seen him. Part of it was a good act, and part of it was the fatigue that penetrated every muscle of his body. "He's got a nice bed over at..."

Rico let out an agonized yell. "He can't be alive. I put those bullets in him myself!"

Goren couldn't suppress a smile of satisfaction. "Eames," he said softly as Rico ranted and tiraded on the other side of the room. He nodded at the door, indicating she should leave. Rico was a cornered tiger, unpredictable and dangerous. Eames trusted her partner and his judgment, but she still hesitated. Bobby was not in top form, physically. But she met his eyes and saw his resolve and a silent plea to do as he asked. She slipped out of the room and joined Deakins and Carver to watch as Goren stepped away from the wall, moving in for the kill.

Rico turned on the big cop, not thinking past the panic that still gripped him. "I saw him go into the river with two bullets in him! I _know_ I didn't miss! How did he survive?"

"He didn't."

Rico stopped in his tracks, stunned and confused. "What? But you said he told you..."

Goren nodded. "I know what I said."

"How could he talk to you if he's dead?"

"I never said he talked to us. I said he told us things. The dead speak, Rico, if you have a mind to listen to them."

Rico stared at him as the realization of what had just occurred sank in. He had just confessed to killing his best friend, and in a police station no less. His father was going to kill him. He felt a white-hot rage well up from deep inside and he let out a howl of fury, launching himself over the table at Goren. He hit the detective squarely with all his weight as the door to the hallway slammed open. The two men hit the mirror full-force, shattering it and raining shards of razor-sharp glass over them and across the floors of both rooms. Two burly detectives and two uniformed officers grabbed Rico and yanked him away from Goren, who straightened away from the now-empty hole in the wall and said, "You're under arrest, Rico, for the murder of Lonnie Burquardt. Daddy's gonna be pissed."

Rico screamed at him, still enraged, as they dragged him away. Wearily, Goren walked to the table, steps faltering as he got there. He leaned on his arms, hung his head and closed his eyes against the pain that throbbed from temple to temple and across the back of his head. He felt a gentle touch that dusted off his clothes and his hair before a cool hand came to rest against the side of his face. Softly, he said, "I want to go home, Eames."

"Look at me."

He forced his eyes open and looked into a worried face. "I'm exhausted and I just want to go home."

Her fingers grazed over the skin above his ear and she turned them over to show him the blood that she'd wiped from his head. "Bobby..."

He frowned as he studied her hand. Gently, he took her fingers, turning her hand over so he could look at the ring she now wore. His eyes flicked from her hand to her face, his question silent in his eyes. But before she could say anything, Deakins yelled, "Goren! Get your ass over here! Now!"

He broke the gaze and headed from the ruined room, concerned about the urgency in the captain's voice. As he turned the corner into the hall, he heard a soft, familiar sound and looked down to see a flash of gray that attached itself to the leg of his jeans and climbed. Reaching down, he closed his hand over her when she got to his thigh and let her settle in the crook of his arm. "Sorry, Captain. I haven't been home yet."

"What is that cat doing with you?"

"I, um, I found her in an alley and, well, we kind of got attached, so I'm taking her home."

Eames reached out and ran two fingers over the tiny gray head. Storm pressed her head into the caress and purred. "She's adorable."

"Tell that to the cop she attacked."

Eames looked at him, eyebrows raised. "She what?"

"She didn't want him touching me, so she tried to rip his hand open."

"Feisty."

"Very. Don't let her size fool you."

"You do have a thing for feisty women."

Goren raised his eyebrows at her and she laughed. Deakins sighed. "Go home. Both of you. Are you sure you're all right, Bobby?" He leaned over and pointed toward the side of his head. "You have some blood running..."

"I know. I'm all right."

"Get it looked at. Call me in a couple of days. I'll let you know if we need anything in the meantime. Eames, Carver is going to want your paperwork tomorrow. You can take Goren's paperwork to him tomorrow night."

Goren snorted. "Gee, thanks, captain."

"Go get some sleep, before you collapse."

The captain walked off and the two detectives headed toward their desks. Goren grabbed his jacket and gym bag and started toward the elevators, knowing Eames would be right behind him. Once in the elevator, he looked back at her and nodded toward her hand. "The ring?"

"Teddy proposed."

A smile played at the corners of his mouth. "You accepted?"

"I'm wearing the ring."

His face relaxed into a smile. "Congratulations. I, uh, I'd be more enthusiastic if I had the energy. You're happy?"

"Very."

"Good. That's very good. I'm happy for you, Alex. For both of you."

"Thank you, Bobby."

She wanted to ask him about Barb, but right now, having been away for nearly three weeks, he would be uncertain until he saw her. She knew he was worried that he couldn't get in touch with her. That concerned her as well. She kept making excuses—it was the middle of the night, she had worked all day, she turned down her ringer, she didn't hear the phone--but Eames was worried, too, and she could only imagine how he was feeling. She unlocked the car and watched him get in. He was getting increasingly unsteady and that concerned her as well. Sliding behind the wheel, she looked over as he settled Storm in his lap. She curled up into a ball and closed her eyes. "How long have you had her?" Eames asked as she started the car and backed out of the spot.

"Uh, I don't know for sure. A week, week and a half."

"And what did you do to convince her to stay with you?"

"Nothing. She just stayed. She first approached me for food. The way to this cat's heart is through her stomach."

"She's so tiny, especially measured against you."

Goren just smiled and leaned his head back. He dozed lightly until the car pulled up in front of the house. "Bobby? You're home."

He took a deep breath as he roused himself and his eyes scanned nearby cars. The sun was beginning to rise and the streetlights were winking out. He found Barb's car with no problem. "Uh, thanks for the ride, Eames."

"Do you have your keys?"

"No, but Barb has a key hidden for me. I can get in."

"Call me later."

He nodded. He slid out of the car after tucking Storm back into the crook of his arm, grabbed his things and looked at his partner. "Thanks, and I really am happy for you."

"Thank you, Bobby. Sleep well."

She waited until he was in the house before driving off.


	35. A Warm Bed

**A/N: This chapter ended up being incredibly long, so I divided it in half. I'll post the other half once I get done proofing it. As always, thanks for the feedback :-)**

* * *

He quietly closed and locked the door and walked through the house to the laundry room. He took a moment to set his boots on the back porch and drop his clothes into the washer. Adding soap and turning the machine on, he lowered the lid. He knew Barb would have done it, but she wasn't his servant. He could wash his own clothes. It was enough that she would throw them in the dryer later.

He looked around as he headed for the stairs, but he didn't see Marcus anywhere. He wasn't surprised. The big cat tended to make himself scarce around him. He wasn't sure if he was just shy or if he resented his presence, though he tended to think it more the latter. Many times when he got home after Barb did, Marcus would be in her lap but he'd jump down and vanish as soon as he came into the room. Barb said to give him time, and Goren was willing to give him as much time as he needed, but he was a little concerned how he would accept Storm. If Marcus didn't fully hate him yet, he might now if he associated him with the appearance of the small gray hurricane he brought home.

He headed up the stairs to the bedroom, quietly opening the door and slipping into the dark room. All the drapes were drawn, but he could make out her form in the bed. He breathed a deep sigh of relief. He set Storm on the floor so she could explore; he would know soon if Marcus was in the room. His phone, his wallet and his keys were on the dresser where he'd left them, and he placed his badge, his gun and his knife beside them. Picking up the phone, he turned it on and called his partner. _Eames._

"Hey, it's me. I didn't want you to worry. Barb is fine. She's sleeping."

_Thank you, Bobby._

"I'll call you later. Good night, Alex."

He placed the phone back on the dresser and then silently toed off his shoes and slipped out of his jeans and sweatshirt. _A warm bed and a soft body..._

He walked to the bed, his eyes now adjusted to the dimness, and studied her. _Beautiful..._ Not for the first time, he wondered what he had done to deserve her. Resigned to the fact that he'd probably never know, he decided his best bet was to simply accept the fact that she loved him and not try to figure it out. Eames was right; sometimes he thought too much. Even though he suffered from mind-numbing weariness, he still found the energy to resurrect doubts in his mind. He sighed softly and slid into the bed, beneath the blankets.

Turning onto his side toward her, he tucked his hand beneath his head and studied her sleeping features before reaching out a hand to brush her hair back out of her face. She stirred and her eyelids fluttered. When they finally opened, her sapphire eyes stared at him for a long moment as sleep slid away from her brain. He knew she thought she was dreaming, so he placed his hand on the gentle curve above her hip and smiled. "Good morning, baby," he whispered.

She stared at him, reaching a hand out to touch his face, expecting him to disappear again. When her fingers made contact with a smooth, shaved cheek, she caught her breath. "Bobby..." she whispered back. "Oh, Bobby!"

She slid into his body, throwing her arms around him and dissolving into a deep kiss. In spite of his fatigue, he had no desire at all to let her go or to still the course of her hands as they explored his body. He was busy doing exploring of his own. Soft curves, warm kisses, tender caresses and a mounting desire chased away his exhaustion for a little while. Her welcome almost made the entire undercover job worthwhile...almost, but not quite.

His climax sapped the little strength he had left, and after a soft kiss and murmured "I love you" he fell into a deep, much-needed sleep. She studied him as he slept, trying to convince herself he was real, that he was home. She turned on the bedside lamp and carefully examined his body for injury, finding the open laceration on the side of his head and the deep bruising on his side. Since the bruising was well below his ribs and on the side of his body opposite his liver and other vital organs, she was not alarmed by it. The wound on his head she examined more closely. The bullet had grazed him, but the cut was not that deep, and it was clean and narrow. She slid from the bed and went into the bathroom. When she returned, she flipped on the light tied into the ceiling fan so she could see better to dress the wound. Turning toward the bed, she stopped in her tracks when she saw a small ball of gray fur curled in the crook of his neck on his pillow.

Setting the first aid box on the foot of the bed, she sat down and looked at the kitten. "Well, look at you."

Storm lifted her head and studied Barb with interest. She wasn't sure what to make of this one, but she was different from those people by the water. This person was soft and quiet. This person was gentle, like the other one who had rubbed her head. She sniffed the offered hand and found a familiar combination of smells. This person was all right. She mewed softly, then tucked her head back against his skin and closed her eyes.

Barb wondered about the small cat, but knew he would explain when he woke up. She wasn't about to disturb his sleep to ask about her, but she made a mental note to go to the store for kitten chow and make an appointment with the vet. She was also going to make a good dinner tonight...broiled tenderloin, baked potatoes, broccoli, maybe something with whipped cream for dessert...and she didn't care what he said, he wasn't going anywhere tonight. She had something important to tell him, and she had missed him more than she ever thought it possible to miss any person. As much as she loved her son, she had not missed him this much when he'd moved away.

She pulled the first aid box closer and shifted herself closer to him. Gently, she cleaned the wound, not surprised that the sting of the peroxide and the betadine didn't register with him. The kitten woke and watched every move she made. She closed the wound with steri-strips; it wasn't bad enough to need stitches. When she finished, she returned the box to its place under the bathroom sink.

Studying him as he slept, she felt the weight of the depression that had been with her these past weeks lift. She walked around the bed and leaned down to kiss him. Her fingers played with his hair for a few moments, then she went downstairs to make breakfast.

* * *

Turning off the stove, she was surprised when she turned away from it to see the kitten in the doorway. She looked up at her and mewed. Barb opened a can of Marcus' food and spooned it onto a plate for her. As the kitten dug in to the food, Barb took her plate to the table and ate her breakfast. Her mind reflected on how easy it had been to get used to not eating alone and how hard it had been to adjust to being alone again when Bobby was gone. It was a very different feeling from when she knew he was simply at work. 

Just as she finished eating, the phone rang. "Hello?"

_Hi, Barb. This is Alex._

"Hi, Alex. Bobby is still sleeping."

_Good. He needs it. But I called to talk to you. We both tried calling you this morning when Bobby came in off the street, but you didn't answer. Is something wrong? He called me to tell me you were okay, so I wouldn't worry, but I'm still worried._

"When did you call?"

_Around four, I guess._

"I wasn't home. One of my nurses got sick and I went in to cover for her. I didn't get back home until around five or so. I'm sorry I worried you."

_You do realize he's going to get you a cell phone now._

Barb laughed. "That won't do any good in the hospital. Why didn't he try me there?"

_It probably didn't occur to him. You don't usually work nights and as tired as he was, he was lucky to be functioning at all. Did you look at his head?_

"Yes. It's just a flesh wound; he's fine. Say, did he say anything about this kitten to you?"

_Only that he found her in an alley and they kind of bonded. While he was finishing up the interrogation, she was wandering around the squad room looking for him. He says she's feisty, and she seems very attached to him._

"So I see. Thanks, Alex...for everything."

_Don't mention it. One of you give me a call later. I have paperwork to finish right now before Mr. Carver comes looking for me._

"All right. 'Bye."

She hung up the phone and cleaned up her dishes, pleased that she was able to eat again without that leaden weight in the pit of her stomach robbing her of what was left of her appetite. The kitten had cleaned her plate and vanished, but it took little mental effort for Barb to guess where she had gone. She spent the morning shopping, knowing Bobby was not going to waken any time soon, although she left a note for him, just in case. She knew how unpredictable he could be.

After returning home, she put everything away and headed upstairs. From what she could tell, he had not moved, and the kitten had reclaimed her place on his pillow. Marcus was sitting in the doorway, just staring at the bed, and she wondered if he'd met the kitten yet. She was inclined to think yes because the only form of acknowledgment he offered was to turn his head away and study the side of the dresser. "Okay, fine," she told him. "Be a snob. But she's here to stay, just like Bobby is, so you'd better just adjust, old man." In reply, he stood up and left the room. "You're a butthead, Marcus," she quietly called after the big black cat.

She couldn't help smiling. Marcus would adjust, eventually. She walked to the bed and eased herself onto it, laying down to rest her head on the pillow near the sleeping kitten, who opened one eye, saw that it was her, and decided it was all right for her to stay there.

Resting her hand on his chest, Barb closed her eyes, for once not annoyed at her recent tendency toward fatigue, and she slept.


	36. Are We All Right?

He slept quietly until late afternoon. Then restlessness settled in with his nightmare. Barb was down the hall, changing the sheets on Brian's bed, since his plane was due in late the next day. She heard him call out and hurried to the bedroom. By now, she was well acquainted with his nightmares and, although they had lessened in frequency, they had never completely gone away. She doubted they ever would.

Sitting on the edge of the bed, she rested her hand on his chest and softly talked to him, easing him away from whatever it was that troubled him as she slid her hand along the side of his face. As the nightmare retreated, he murmured in his sleep, "Don't go..."

She waited until he settled back into a quiet sleep and she realized that the kitten, too, must be familiar with his sleep disturbances. Storm had moved over onto her pillow and watched him with what Barb could only interpret as concern. With the nightmare dispelled, the kitten mewed at her, then returned to her place on his pillow, licking his ear before curling up beside him. Barb reached over and stroked the little cat, who purred at her. Then she leaned down and softly kissed him.

After she was done in Brian's room, she checked on Bobby and went down to the kitchen to start dinner. She was almost done cooking when he appeared in the kitchen doorway. His hair was mussed and he never quite lost the look of a little boy just woken from sleep. He'd pulled on sweats and a t-shirt, and he looked well-rested. She walked over to him, slipped her arms around his waist and hugged him, resting her head against his chest. She felt his arms about her as his lips pressed into her hair, and she turned her face up for a real kiss, something he was happy to give her. When she finally stepped away and returned to the stove, she asked, "Are you hungry?"

"Yes. Uh, are you...all right?"

"I'm fine. I'm sorry I didn't answer the phone this morning. Sheila went home sick and I had to cover for her until Carol could come in." She looked at him. "Are you okay?"

"I am now."

"How is your head?"

"A little achy but not bad."

"And your side?"

"Sore." He shifted his weight. "Barb, I...uh...I'm sorry."

She looked confused. "For what?"

"This morning...when I got home...I...I didn't intend to...to be so...uh, I was just...I was..."

She returned to him and touched his lips, silencing his halting apology. "You have nothing to apologize for. Not a thing. I was just as glad to have you home as you were to be here, and just as...eager to show you that. I should be the one apologizing, for not letting you go right to sleep, like you needed to...but...I am so glad you're back." He visibly relaxed and she leaned up to kiss him again. "Welcome home. And never apologize for loving me. You should know by now when I expect an apology."

"I-I do. But...I...I should have better control of myself."

She smiled seductively. "Not with me, you shouldn't," she whispered, teasing his lips with the tip of her tongue. He groaned softly and she added, "Now set the table, please."

The table? It took a moment for that to register, and he softly let out his breath. The table...right...

She turned off the stove, checked the meat and decided everything was done. Walking to the doorway, she watched him, again admiring his easy grace. For all the confidence he could put into his movements, she knew the insecurities that dwelled beneath them. She was doing her best to dispel the ones she was responsible for and address the others to help him work through them. The fact that he could now accept her reassurances without questioning them told her she was succeeding, but it was a long process. He was unable to readily let go of hurt. She was patient, however, and she loved him enough to give him all the time and reassurance he needed.

A quiet mewing drew her attention away from him and down toward the floor, where his kitten looked up at her, then at the cabinet where she'd gotten the can of cat food this morning. She smiled when Bobby scooped her up and muttered, "Little beggar."

With a laugh, Barb crossed to the cabinet, retrieved a can of moist kitten food and tossed it to him. He caught it with ease, read the label and looked at her. She patted his cheek as she passed him and grabbed the plates from the table. As she dished the food onto them, she explained, "I went shopping this morning. She has to eat." She handed him the small bowl she'd gotten for her. "Does she have a name?"

He smiled at her and set the kitten on the floor. As he dumped the food into the bowl and set it down for her, he answered, "Storm."

"Storm?"

"Just wait until she settles in. You'll see how the name suits her. Cal calls her a little hurricane."

"Great. Marcus is never going to speak to either one of us again."

"He doesn't speak to me now."

"He'll get over it. He's old and cranky; give him time."

He sighed. "Whatever you say, baby."

She walked over to where he squatted beside the kitten, watching her eat, and she ran her fingers through his hair. "It doesn't matter. I don't need my cat's approval to love you."

Standing, he pulled her into his arms. "I missed you," he muttered as he buried his face in her neck.

Laughing, she answered, "I missed you, too. Now cut it out and let's eat or the cats will have a real feast."

He released her, albeit reluctantly, and helped her finish dishing out the food. They sat down to eat and she asked, "You did eat out there, didn't you?"

"Some. We were lucky if we had two sandwiches a day. But it was enough."

"What about Storm?"

"When I found her she was hunting a rat bigger than she is. After that, I gave her half of everything I had. The guys fed her, too, so she ate better than any of us did. She stayed warm and dry, too, unlike the rest of us."

"How did she manage that?"

"I kept her in my pocket, so she'd be safe..."

"...And warm and dry."

"Uh, yeah."

"Softie."

He laughed. "I suppose."

When she was done eating, Storm tried to jump up into his lap, but she missed and ended up on the floor under his chair, looking confused. That was not where she intended to land. He reached down and she climbed into his hand. Sitting in his lap, she peeked above the edge of the table to his plate. He laughed when her little paw sneaked over the table edge and tried to snare something from the plate. Barb watched with amusement as he fed her small pieces of his meat. He grinned. "I have yet to see her refuse anything. Watch this."

He offered her a little piece of broccoli, which she took and devoured as readily as she did the meat. It was already halfway to her stomach before she realized it wasn't what she expected, and she gave him an odd look, which made him laugh. "Stop teasing her," Barb scolded. "Broccoli will give her gas, and she's going to sleep on the other side of your pillow if that's the case."

After dinner, in spite of her objections, he helped her with the dishes. By mutual agreement, they postponed dessert. While she made a cup of tea, he took his beer into the living room and went about starting a fire in the fireplace. After pulling the kitten out of the ashes for the third time, he skittered a twig across the polished floor away from the fireplace and she scampered after it. Once the fire was going well, he was careful to secure the screen to the fireplace.

By the time he was done, Barb was sitting on the couch, laughing at Storm as she continued to chase the stick around the floor. "Do you like her?" he asked as he sat beside her.

"Yes, I do."

"Normally, I would never presume to bring an animal home without talking to you first, but I just didn't have the heart to leave her in that alley." They watched her slide into the leg of a chair, spin around it and scramble after the stick again. "She, uh, she hasn't found her feline grace yet," he muttered.

"I see that."

He slid his arm around her and drew her against him, kissing her head. "How is Brian doing?"

"Well enough to travel, but that's about it. He tires very easily."

"When is he getting here?"

"Tomorrow night. His plane comes in at eight."

"I was gone way too long. I'm sorry."

"Don't apologize. You did what you had to do; we both did. Did you get what you were after?"

"Yes, we did."

"Then it was worth it."

"That depends. For getting the guy we were after, yes, it was. For being away from you, then no. I won't do that again."

"Bobby..."

He shook his head adamantly. "I won't."

She ran her fingers along his arm, rewarded by a shiver that coursed through him and a tightening of the arm he had around her. "We'll cross that bridge if we ever come to it," she conceded.

His hand sifted through her soft hair. "Did you do all right?"

"I really wish I could answer yes, but I won't lie to you." She felt his muscles tense and she nipped his tendency toward self-recrimination in the bud. "Don't," she whispered. "Don't go there. If you want me to be honest with you, I need you not to take the blame for everything that doesn't go the way we want it to. I told you to take the assignment, and I meant it. I don't regret that at all, and neither should you. I knew it wouldn't be easy. I just didn't expect it to be as hard as it was." She ran a fingertip down his thigh and around his knee. "That wasn't your fault."

A thick silence fell over the room, broken only by the crackle of the fire, the soft skitter of the stick as Storm batted it across the floor and an occasional quiet thud as she slid into something. Finally, he said, "Tell me about it."

"Not if you're going to feel guilty."

"I won't." He hesitated, then amended, "I'll try not to. Please tell me."

What she really had to tell him had nothing to do with his absence and everything to do with how she'd been feeling. This was a good way to ease into what she expected to be a difficult conversation. She turned and laid back across his lap so she could see his face and he could see hers. That was the only way he would know that she really was all right with their circumstances.

He rested a hand across her abdomen and with the other, fingered her hair, all the while keeping contact with her eyes. This was a vast improvement over several months earlier, when his eyes would dart hyperactively all over the room if she tried to talk to him. She was pleased at how much he had settled with her, and she hoped what she had to tell him would not undo all that. She let out her breath in a soft sigh. "I was depressed," she whispered. "I couldn't help feeling that way. Brian is getting worse and you were gone, and the only distraction I had from any of it was work." He understood that well. "It became a lot for me to handle. As you know, with depression comes fatigue, lack of appetite, GI symptoms, and I felt all that." She found it easier than she'd thought to relax as she talked. "Ray became concerned. I have known him for a very long time and he could see that I wasn't feeling right. So he ran some tests the other day, to see if there was an underlying cause for my symptoms, other than situational depression." She jumped when a small body landed on her stomach from the back of the couch. "Oh, good grief, Storm."

Bobby chuckled and moved his hand. She pounced on it. He turned his attention back to Barb. "Did you get the test results back?"

"Yes. One of them was abnormal."

His face reflected his alarm and his hand stilled in spite of the kitten jumping on it and wrestling with his fingers. "Thyroid?" he asked hopefully. Of all the things he knew might cause her symptoms, that was the most benign.

"No. HCG." She studied his face. "Do you know what that measures?"

"Hu-human chorionic gonadotropin," he whispered.

She nodded. "An indicator of pregnancy."

He rubbed his temple and closed his eyes. "Y-you're pregnant?"

"Yes."

"H-how far...how far along?"

"I'm not sure. My first appointment is Monday." She moved his hand lower on her abdomen, to the barely noticable swelling below her waist. "Based on that, maybe three months. Because I work out, my periods are irregular, so we'll have to wait until Monday to find out for certain."

"Are-are you all right?"

"I'm fine...now."

"How do you feel about it?"

"That's what I want to know. How _you_ feel."

"I asked first."

She gave him a patronizing look, knowing he would base his own reaction on hers. That was not what she wanted. "I have no idea what to feel. My emotions have been a mess lately, with Brian's illness and you being gone. So help me out here, baby. Tell me how you feel."

"I, uh, I thought I was doing good with a kitten."

She laughed softly, watching as he absently played with Storm. "You are," she encouraged.

"Barb, I-I don't know how to be a father. I have nothing to go by."

"Your father..."

He shook his head adamantly. "No. My-my father was...not a good example of what a father should be. He was a much better example of what a father should not be."

She wondered at that, but the hard look on his face did not invite discussion, so she let it go. Reaching up, she traced the line of his jaw with her finger. His eyes slid closed and some of the tension eased from his face. "I think you'll be a great father. I've seen you interact with some of the kids in the hospital. You have a natural rapport with them and a kind, gentle nature." She trailed her fingers across his lips. "You won't be doing it alone, Bobby. _We_ are going to be parents."

She felt him shudder as he closed his eyes. "I-I don't know if I'm ready to be a father. I n-never really expected to..."

"You have time to adjust."

"B-but...oh, God, Barb..I...I am sorry...The timing...I..."

"Shh. Don't apologize. You didn't do it alone. We'll be all right."

"A-are you okay with this?"

"I will be if you don't have a meltdown over it." She sat up and gently deposited the kitten in his lap. When she moved to stand up, he grabbed her arm. "Don't go anywhere..."

"I'm just going into the kitchen. My tea is cold."

"I can heat it for you."

She laughed. "Oh, no, you don't. Don't you dare start treating my like I'm made of china. I can warm my own tea."

He nodded and reluctantly released her arm, watching her walk into the kitchen. When she came back, he was laying on the floor, dangling the twig over Storm's head while she stood on his stomach and jumped at it. Every third or fourth jump, she would tumble off him and climb right back up. He shifted his eyes toward her as she sat down beside him. "Uh, if I ask you if you should be sitting on the floor, would you smack me?"

"Yes. As long as I can get up and down I can sit on the floor if I want to. You were around Alex when she was pregnant. Did you treat her like she was fragile?"

He shook his head. "She wouldn't let me; I watched out for her as much as I could get away with. But...don't think I didn't want to take care of her." He sighed. "She can take care of herself, though. She never needed anything from me, except to be her friend."

"I'll tell you what. I'll let you take care of me, if you promise not to go overboard. Just don't treat me any differently. I am not going to break, and you will not hurt the baby. He's very well protected." She slipped her hand under his shirt and gently trailed her fingers over his skin. "You have an obligation now that you never had before, but it's to the baby, not to me...Ow!"

She looked at the kitten who had pounced on the thing moving under the fabric of his shirt and dug in with claws and teeth. He sat up and deposited the little troublemaker on the floor, drawing her interest back to the stick and sending her across the room after it once again. Wrapping his arms around his legs, he looked at her. "No. I mean, yes, I have an obligation to this baby. But I have one to you, too. Without my input, you'd never have gotten pregnant. It's not fair that you have to bear the brunt of the entire pregnancy. Let me do my share, or as much of it as I can. I can't carry this baby for you. So let me do other things to help. Let me feel useful."

Leaning forward, she kissed him. "We'll work it out."

Returning her lips to his, she slid her hand along his face and threaded her fingers into his curls. He slid his arm around her waist and softly groaned when her tongue made its way into his mouth. Slowly rolling backward, he drew her with him and she stretched her body on top of his. Pulling out of the kiss, she rested her chin on folded hands on his chest. "Does this mean we're all right?"

He looked confused. "When were we not all right?"

"You're really okay with this?"

She knew he had withdrawn to think and she waited, turning her head on its side to watch Storm's antics with the stick. She was a funny little cat. He drew her back with a gentle kiss on her head. "Barb, what did you expect from me?"

"I never know what to expect from you."

He shook his head. "Don't cop out on me. Did you expect me to take off?"

"No. That thought never occurred to me. That's just not you."

"Then what? You were afraid to tell me for a reason. You didn't expect me to be all right with it."

"No, I didn't. I thought you might...withdraw from me. I thought that maybe this would...hurt the relationship we've worked so hard to build."

"Did it occur to you that it could make it better?"

"It occurred to me you might take it as more of an obligation than it is."

"You thought I would want to marry you...be-because of the baby?"

"It occurred to me."

His face was guarded. "And you don't want to..."

"Don't start reading too much into things. I don't want you to feel obligated by anything except what's in your heart where I am concerned. I don't think we're at a point where marriage would be a smart move. Not yet. We still have things to work through, Bobby."

He sighed softly. "But there's still a chance for us?"

"More than just a chance. We're doing fine. I know we'd be so much better if I hadn't..."

He kissed her. "You keep telling me to let things go, to work past them and stop blaming myself for everything." His breath caressed her face. "You need to do the same. We both accept blame for what happened. We both feel guilt for hurting one another. You think I shouldn't, but I do because I bear half the responsibility of this relationship. If you expect me to let go of it and move on, then you need to do the same. You do not need to be carrying around pointless guilt. Let it go. If you think I'm afraid to marry you because of that, you're dead wrong. But I do not need a piece of paper to tell me I'm committed to you. I will not go diving under a rock at every unexpected turn of events."

"Then you're okay with being a father?"

"No. Not yet. But I will be; I have to be. Give me time to get used to the idea. You really threw me for a loop."

With a smile, she drew her face closer to his, stopping when a small gray body pushed its way under her chin and loudly purred. He couldn't help laughing. "She likes you."

"Are you sure? If we'd had her three months ago, we wouldn't be having this discussion."

"Don't be so sure," he grinned. Scooting the cat from his chest, he muttered, "Go find Marcus, you little monster. He could use some lightening up."

Turning onto his side and lowering her gently to the floor beside him, he caressed her stomach lightly. "Now where were we?"

She pressed her lips against his again, gently moving his hand lower on her abdomen... A chorus of hissing, spitting and rowling cut through the air, and a trembling ball of gray fur ended up standing on his head, all puffed out and growling. In the doorway, Marcus gave a final hiss, then sat down and began grooming himself. Struggling to remain serious, Barb said, "You told her to go find Marcus and lighten him up."

"Ow...let go, Storm." He pulled her off his head and she attached herself to his shirt. He rolled his eyes. "I didn't tell her to torment him."

"I'm sure she didn't. He's an old grouch."

"And she's a troublemaker."

She wrapped a hand around Storm, who let go of her grip on Bobby's shirt and transferred it to Barb's sleeve. Leaning forward, she kissed him again, lingering, toying with his tongue briefly. "If you really do think we're fine, then prove it," she murmured to him. "I'll be waiting upstairs."

With the kitten tucked into her arms, she got lightly to her feet and headed out of the room, stopping to admonish Marcus, who ignored her. He watched her until she was out of sight. He couldn't blame her for thinking he would freak out about this, and he surprised himself that he didn't. He removed the firescreen and pulled the glass door closed over the fireplace, drained his beer and took her teacup into the kitchen. Dropping the bottle into recycling, he quickly washed the cup and started out of the room. Just before the doorway to the dining room, he stopped. With a smile, he walked to the refrigerator, bent down to retrieve a can of whipped cream from the door and, unable to suppress a soft laugh, he hurried from the room. She wanted proof? He would give it to her...in spades.


	37. Unconditional

He lay on his side, head propped on one hand. His other hand was splayed over her lower abdomen, where he gently caressed the small swell that showed him where his baby grew within her. _His_ baby. That was such a foreign concept to him. His _baby_. His head spun at the thought of it, while at the same time an odd feeling in his chest made him feel...good. Really damn good.

He closed his eyes with a soft sigh when his small ball of gray fur pounced from out of nowhere and landed on his hand. Drawing the little cat closer to his face, something he had not done with any other animal since the puppy he'd had when he was five, out at his grandparents' place because Dad said he was too little for a dog, he let her rub her head against his chin and took comfort from the buzzing purr that rattled her chest. She was more than worth the allergy symptoms he controlled with medication.

Unconditional love. All his life it was something he had been starved for. The purr that filled his ears told him he found it with this tiny animal. The movement beside him as Barb drew her body closer to his and snuggled against him told him he'd found it with her. _Call me tomorrow._ The sound of his partner's voice in his head told him he'd found it with her as well. In a life that was lived in the shadows, sudden light from three different directions was almost blinding. But it was also warm and comforting.

Setting the kitten on his hip, he wrapped protective arms around the body that cradled two fragile things: his baby and his heart. With soft kisses and a gentle touch, he roused her. Deepening kisses and warm caresses aroused her. It was his favorite way to start the day.

* * *

It was a cool day, but not unpleasantly so. The rain that had made his time on the street so miserable had finally stopped, taking with it the cold, at least for a short while before winter set in. They spent part of the afternoon in the yard, as Barb made her annual list of what needed to be done to get her roses and the rest of the yard ready for winter. Storm ran about the lawn chasing grasshoppers that seemed to be half her size. Bobby was certain if she caught one it would take off with her. 

When the bees caught her attention, they decided it was time to go in the house. Barb laughed as the little cat bounced across the yard after them, once she realized they were heading for the house. "She follows you around like a puppy."

He looked down as Storm leapt at his leg, grabbing on with all four paws. He reached down and she pounced at his hand, missing and tumbling to the ground. With a shake of his head and a soft chuckle, he leaned down and picked her up. Latching on to the sleeve of his denim shirt, she scrambled up to his shoulder and sat down. Barb laughed again. "She's such a cute little thing."

He held the door open for her and followed her into the house. "She is. She really catches you off guard, though. So tiny and so cute, but hell on wheels."

"That's okay," she smiled. "She'll prepare us for having a toddler."

He just nodded, but he ran that concept around in his head. If this kitten was anything like a toddler, he was in trouble.

* * *

Barb was in a good mood, excited about seeing Brian. Bobby was glad she was able to set aside her son's illness in her mind and just be excited that he was coming home. And he revelled in her excitement. She was playful and teasing all through dinner, and by the time the dishes were done, he was more than ready to take her down right there and enjoy every suggestive hint she'd dropped at him. 

She turned away from the empty sink and wrapped her arms around him. "I want to show you something," she told him softly, placing a kiss in the middle of his chest.

He followed her out of the kitchen and up the stairs. She stopped suddenly on the top stair and turned, draping her arms over his shoulders and looking directly into his eyes. She kissed him lightly, then deepened it. She teased his lips with her tongue and he groaned softly, placing his hands on her hips and pulling her against him. Just as suddenly as she began the kiss, she broke it, turning and hurrying down the hall, past the bedroom door. Confused and more than a little overwhelmed, he recovered enough to run after her. Laughing, she turned into the study, flipping on the light as she crossed through the doorway.

He chased her into the study and stopped as soon as he crossed the threshold, his goal of catching her momentarily forgotten. His eyes surveyed the room, paneled in rich woods like the living room. He'd never been in here before. Bookcases lined two walls and his desk was next to the window. He walked over to it and ran a finger over the freshly polished surface. The polish brought out the fine grain of the wood; he had always loved this desk. She watched him. "The movers emptied it and put everything into those boxes in the corner. I didn't touch them."

He nodded and walked over to the bookcases that had once adorned his living room. "I did unpack your books," she continued. "I...was lonely...and it helped me feel connected to you. I hope you don't mind."

He looked at her, eyes bright, and smiled reassurance before he continued his way around the room. He stopped at the wall opposite his desk, next to the door. Several framed citations hung there. He frowned. "Where did you get these?"

"One of the movers handed me a manila folder, and they were in it. You should be proud of your achievements, Bobby. I thought they needed to be framed and put up on the wall."

He studied them for a quiet moment. "Thank you for not hanging them over the desk."

"I figured if you wanted to see them all the time, you wouldn't have put them in a folder. So I hung them out of the way. If I overstepped my boundaries..."

"No. It's not that at all. I'm just...not used to anyone caring. That's all." He looked over the built-in bookcase on the wall opposite his own. "This is a beautiful room," he commented as he read the bindings of the books that were there.

She stepped up behind him, reaching out to lovingly run a finger along the books he was looking at. "This was my father's study," she said, resting a hand on his back. "Growing up, I used to come in here after dinner every night and sit in his lap while he smoked his pipe. We would talk about how our days were and he would read to me. _Moby Dick, Tom Sawyer, Little Women, Wuthering Heights..._" she read. "All the classics. He read every one to me."

He turned so he could see her face, looking at the books on the shelves. "You loved your father."

She nodded. "He was bigger than life to me. I adored him. He was a cardiologist, and he always discouraged me from being a doctor. 'Too much stress; too many hours,' he would tell me. 'Not enough time for living.' But he always made time for me. When Brian was born, he retired. After Kevin died, he insisted that Brian and I move in here, and he and Mom took care of him while I went to school and then to work. He was a smart man and he invested well. I never had to work, and I still don't. I work because I want to, because I love it." She sighed. "He died when Brian was twelve, and my world was rocked to its foundations. Mom died the next year, and I felt utterly alone, except for my son. Now I'm losing him, too."

When he touched her, she stepped closer, into his arms, and rested her head on his chest. He gently rubbed her back. "The last thing I want is to intrude into your life, your memories..."

"Nonsense."

"This room holds strong memories for you."

"It's okay, Bobby. I feel very strongly about this. My father would approve. I understand your need for privacy, a space of your own. I already told you, if you close the door, I'll respect that."

"But once I come out, all bets are off."

"Absolutely." She stepped back from his arms and wiped her eyes. "I had the movers put most of your furniture in the attic. You saw your dresser in the bedroom, and I put your clothes away."

He left the study and went into the bedroom. In the closet, he found his suits hanging opposite her dresses. His shoes were neatly lined up on the floor beneath his suits. She reached out and let her fingers trail down his arm. "Surprised to find your clothes in here?"

He sighed and walked to the bed, sitting down. Storm pounced on his back and climbed up to his shoulder. As he absently tapped a finger for her to chase, he said, "I'm actually surprised to find anything of mine here, in your home."

"No. Our home," she corrected.

"Our home," he murmured, letting his mind grasp the thought and roll it around for a while. "_Our_ home."

"Is that such a difficult concept to grasp?"

"It is for me."

She gently kissed him. "Then, take your time. I'm going to take a shower. We need to leave for the airport in an hour."

He nodded, still playing with the kitten as he mulled over the concept of 'ours.' It took a minute or two for his mind to realize what she'd just said. '_Our_ shower,' he thought with a grin as he stood up, set Storm on the bed and went into the bathroom to join her. There was enough time for her to keep at least _one_ of her promises...


	38. Arriving at Gate TwentyFive

The ride to the airport had been quiet, but not uncomfortable. They were both nervous, though for different reasons. Barb was afraid to see what Brian's illness had done to him. Bobby's fears were two-fold: he was afraid of what seeing her ill son would do to her, and he was afraid of Brian's reaction to him, a fear born of his chronic insecurities. As they walked from the parking area toward the main terminal, he asked, "Do you want to go to the gate?"

"They don't let people go to the gate anymore."

"I can arrange it, if you want."

She looked at him. "How?"

"I'm a city cop, Barb. I can get us to the gate."

Before she could answer, his phone rang. Pulling it out of his jacket pocket, he said, "Think about it."

She didn't miss the frown on his face when he saw the caller ID number. Flipping it open, he moved away from her to talk and she waited.

"We better not have a case," he said into the phone.

_That's a fine hello._

"Sorry. I'm nervous."

_I can tell. Are you on your way to the airport?_

"We just got here."

_Take her down to the gate. Don't make her wait for him in the terminal._

"I asked her if she wants to go to the gate. She's thinking about it."

_Just take her down there, Bobby. She's got enough to think about. And don't be nervous._

"That's fine for you to say, Eames. You have nothing riding on this."

_And you do? Are you still that insecure about this relationship? Relax, will you? Brian will like you, or at the very least he'll accept you because his mother loves you. What are you wearing?_

"What am I wearing? This isn't a date."

He could see her shaking her head. _First impressions are important. If you look like a bum..._

"A bum? I'm not undercover, you know. And if you must know, my dark blue suit."

_Good choice. That's my favorite._

"Barb's, too. Anything else?"

_I just wanted to say good luck, that's all. Call me later and tell me how it went._

"Thanks, Eames."

As he slid the phone into his pocket and returned to Barb's side, he reflected that his partner would never know how much he appreciated her friendship. He wondered how she was going to react to news of the baby. But he wasn't worried about that. Telling his mother...now that worried him.

He slipped his arm around Barb and leaned down to kiss her. "Eames wanted to make sure I'm dressed for a good first impression," he said with a grin.

Barb laughed. "Did you tell her about the baby yet?"

"No. I don't want to do that over the phone. I want to see her real reaction. How do you think Brian will handle it?"

"To be honest with you, Bobby, I'm not sure I'm going to tell him."

He frowned. "Why not?"

"I don't want him to have any regrets."

"Why would he regret you having a baby?"

"He wouldn't, but he would regret not being able to see his brother or sister grow up."

"Uh, this isn't something you can hide indefinitely."

She looked away but tightened her grip on his hand. "By the time I get to that point, this baby will be an only child," she said softly.

That had not occurred to him. "Oh. I-I'm sorry, Barb. I..." He trailed off and was silent for a moment. "Whatever you think is best."

As they entered the terminal, she pushed him off to the side of the walkway. Reaching up, she caressed his cheek. "Thank you," she said.

"For what?"

"For coming out here with me, for one. And for caring about Brian, for another."

"He's important to you."

"And so are you."

Leaning up, she gave him a soft kiss. He held her for a moment, disturbed by the gentle tremor that shook her body, and he wished there was some way, any way, he could spare her this pain. After a moment, they headed into the airport terminal.

* * *

She had no words to reassure him; there was nothing more she could do. It was all up to him and Brian. They would like each other, or they would not. And it was going to be difficult to read either one. One thing they had in common was a tendency toward introversion. Bobby, she imagined, had always been that way. Brian became that way after her father's death. But like one another or not, they would at the very least be civil to each other and put on a show for her. To her, that was the worst case scenario. She wanted honesty from them. She could handle their honest reactions; she did not want them pretending differently for her sake.

She looked across the waiting area, toward the windows that looked out toward the tarmac, where Bobby paced restlessly as the plane taxied off the runway toward the gate, where they waited. His badge had given them easy passage to the gate, and she found herself grateful to him for making that decision for her and just bringing them there. She was at a point right now where she wasn't sure about anything. If asked to make a choice between fries and onion rings, she doubted she could do it.

As the plane moved into position at the gate, she sat heavily. She wasn't up to this. She was afraid to see her son, unable to get the image of his cancer-ravaged father out of her mind. Burying her face in her hands, she could not will her body to stop shaking.

She was surprised when a strong arm pulled her close, and she buried her face in his broad chest. She was even more surprised when the trembling in her body eased. Fisting his jacket in her hand, she pressed herself as close to him as she could get, and he kissed her head. She felt him move, and his voice sounded soft and close to her ear. "Are you all right?"

She nodded. "I'm better."

"Is there anything I can do?"

"Nothing you haven't already done. I feel...uncertain."

"I understand uncertain."

She nodded, but still could not look up at him. "I know you do. I don't know how I'm going to handle this."

Dipping his head down to catch her eyes, he said, "You'll do fine. He's your son, and you love him. That will overshadow everything else."

"I...I don't know what to do, Bobby. I feel like I need to do...something."

"I always feel that way." He gently kissed her. "But there _is_ nothing you can do."

"So I do...nothing?"

"I don't know what to tell you, Barb. I don't know what you _can_ do. Just...let me know if I can help."

She rested her head against his chest and took a deep, unsteady breath. Her uncertainty and upset were deeply troubling to him. He caressed her hair and thought maybe a change of topic was in order. "Uh, do you think the house will survive?"

She looked confused. "Survive what?"

"Storm. We've never left her home alone before."

Finally, Barb laughed. She knew exactly what he was doing, and he succeeded. "I love you, Bobby."

He smiled and gave her a kiss. "I love you, too."

They turned their attention toward the door as the passengers began to disembark from the plane and a nervous silence settled back over them.

When she slowly stood and began to step hesitantly toward the door, he let her go, remaining where he was. He recognized Brian from the pictures in the house in spite of the changes, changes that hit him hard. This kid was really sick. He couldn't see Barb's face, but he could read tension in her every move. He wanted to help her, but there was little he could do. This was something she had to deal with herself. He could not remove this burden from her heart. Even so, his mind returned to an earlier conversation they'd had, and he had to fight down the urge to kiss her pain away. There would be time for that later...if she was willing.

He was still floored by the changes in Brian. The boy in the pictures around the house was muscular and trim, with sandy hair that laid over his collar. He had a mustache, piercing blue eyes and his mother's beautiful smile. The young man that now folded Barb in his arms was a shadow of his healthy self. Thin and gaunt, hair trimmed to a crewcut and mustache shaved, his skin had a sickly pallor. There was no denying that this boy was ill, and he could not describe the feelings that churned inside him.

Holding tight to Brian's hand, Barb led him over to where Bobby waited, unwilling to interfere with the reunion of mother and son. He rose to his feet, once again uncertain about his place. He settled a little when she slid her hand into his and squeezed. "Brian," she said quietly. "This is Bobby." Her hand tightened more. "Bobby, this is my son."

Brian accepted his offered hand and stepped forward to embrace him. Bobby was surprised by the strength in the embrace; his body did not look capable of such a strong hug. Stepping back, Brian smiled, but there was a haunted look in his eyes. Bobby's detective instincts sized up the younger man. A good six inches shorter than he was, he was still seven or eight inches taller than his diminutive mother. He was far too thin, a manifestation of the disease that was eating away at his body. His eyes, though, were still clear and full of the joy of living. But Bobby did not miss the pain that flared bright in those blue eyes. It was a tragedy that life was being taken from him so early. He hadn't had a chance to live, to find love, have children...everything that had also escaped Bobby, until now.

As they headed away from the gate on the way to the baggage carousel, Brian asked, "So how's ol' Marcus?"

Barb smiled. "Actually, Marcus isn't speaking to either of us at the moment."

"Why not?"

"When Bobby came in from his undercover assignment, he...brought a present with him."

"A present that pissed off Marcus?"

"Royally."

Brian looked past his mother at Bobby. "What'd you bring home?"

"A little gray hurricane named Storm. She's about three months old and thinks she's a full-grown tiger."

"A kitten?"

"Yes," Barb replied. "Cute as the dickens, too. You should see her with Bobby."

Brian laughed. "No wonder the old cat's not talking to you. He's probably pissed as hell."

"You could say that."

"Well, good. Maybe Storm will keep him young."

"Either that or the aggravation will kill him."

"Ah, Marc'll be fine."

After retrieving Brian's bags in the baggage claim area, they walked to the car to head home. Brian's steps were slow and measured, punctuated occasionally by a soft groan of pain he could not suppress. Bobby offered to get a wheelchair for him, but he declined. "I'll make it just fine. It's character-building and I can use all the character I can get these days."

Brian had a natural way with people, a gentle manner that put people at ease. It wasn't long before he was able to unload part of his mother's heavy burden. He could not dissolve her sorrow, but he was able to allow her to see past the illness that changed his appearance by showing her it had not touched his spirit. He talked about Chicago and the similarities and differences between the Big Apple and the Windy City. Throughout the discussion, she kept glancing toward the driver's seat. Bobby had withdrawn, and she was not at all certain what to make of that. But when she reached toward him and touched his arm, he looked at her and graced her with a genuine smile. Relieved that he had not retreated too far, she left him alone for the rest of the ride, allowing her hand to come to rest on his thigh and remain there.

* * *

Bobby unlocked the front door and pushed it open, letting Brian and Barb into the house ahead of him. He set Brian's bags near the stairs, but before he could do anything else, he heard an odd sound and his little gray furball launched herself out of the living room, hit his leg and started climbing. "Hey! Ow...watch where you put those claws, Storm..." He grabbed her and peeled her off his pants. "These aren't my jeans, you little monster."

She scrambled up his sleeve and pressed herself against the side of his head. Laughing, Barb observed, "I would say she missed you."

He raised his eyebrows at her. "Think so?"

Brian came out of the living room, holding an indignant Marcus. "Maybe this old grouch had something to do with it. He was on the back of the couch, all puffed up and growling."

Barb touched Marcus' nose. "Behave yourself, Marcus. You're the adult here; she's just a baby." Marcus looked away, nose in the air. "Brat," Barb muttered.

Bobby leaned over her shoulder to speak into her ear. "Be fair now. I'm certain she harassed him."

"Maybe, maybe not, but she _is_ still a baby." Reaching up, she took the little cat from his shoulder. "Come on, precious. Let's get you a treat for having to put up with His Grumpiness."

Brian set Marcus down on the floor, amused, and watched the old cat raise his head indignantly and head up the stairs to the bedrooms. He laughed again. "He'll be on my bed, waiting to punish me for being away."

"Punish you how?"

"Last time I came home, he peed on all my clothes."

"That's pleasant."

"What can I say? He was pissed at me. I would wager he'd pee all over her, if he could catch her."

"Maybe we should just segregate them when we're gone."

Brian nodded. "I think that'd be a good idea." He started toward the kitchen. "Hey, Mom...got anything good to drink in there?"

Bobby smiled to himself and took Brian's bags up the stairs to his room, where Marcus was indeed sitting on the bed. When he flipped on the light, the old cat stood up, turned his back to him and sat back down. Laughing softly, Bobby said, "You really are an old grouch, Marcus."

The old grouch twitched his ears, but gave no other sign that he'd heard.


	39. Settling In

Brian popped his head into the bedroom to say good night. Goren, sitting on the bed with Storm, smiled at the young man. "Sleep well, Brian."

Barb made certain her son was settled, handed him his medicine and kissed him good night. Then she went down the hall to the bedroom she shared with Bobby. She wondered how Brian felt about it, and made up her mind to talk to him as soon as the situation presented itself. She had not shared her home, much less her bedroom, with any man since Kevin passed away. But her son seemed to like the big, quiet cop, and he did not seem uncomfortable with Bobby there, in the home he grew up in. He seemed to accept the fact that she had someone else important in her life. Stepping into the bedroom, she stopped after closing the door to watch him as he moved his fingers beneath the blanket while Storm chased them with abandon. She smiled. "Bobby?"

He looked up, smiling a lazy smile at her. "Is he comfortable?"

"I think so. Is she?"

He looked down at where the kitten had curled herself around his wrist and was chewing on his knuckle. He spun his hand around and she looked confused, wondering how she'd ended up on her back in his hand. He tickled her belly and she gently bit his fingers. Barb crawled onto the bed beside him and rested her head against his shoulder. "Thank you," she whispered.

He turned his head to look at her. "What for?"

"For going with me to the airport. He looks...sick, doesn't he?"

"Not as sick as I expected," he answered, striving for reassurance.

"Do you remember when we talked about this? How I'd seek calm and you might offer..."

She trailed off, searching for the right words. He turned toward her, sliding an arm behind her, and laid a soft kiss on the side of her neck. He muttered into her skin, "I might try to...make you forget things, for a little while?"

She moaned softly when his hand slid beneath her shirt and a thumb grazed over her nipple. "Oh...yes..." she agreed. "Please..." His mouth slid over hers. "Need to forget..." she murmured into his mouth as he eased her back onto the bed and absently chased the kitten to the floor.

Storm wondered for half a second at what they were doing before she lost interest and scampered off to find something else to do.

He pulled off her shirt, losing himself in the wonder of pregnant breasts, and he did not hear the phone ring. She was the one who heard it first, who pulled away and retrieved it from the dresser. With a groan of frustration, he snapped it open. "What?"

_That's the second time today you've answered the phone without a hello._

"I'm...busy, Eames."

_So was I, Romeo, but when you didn't answer your phone, I was called by default._ Now _we have a case._ He swore. _Now, now...do you want me to pick you up?_

"No," he sighed heavily. "Just give me the address."

When he closed the phone, he turned to her, regret in his eyes and his manner. "Damn, baby..."

"I'll still be here, and I'll still be ready when you get back," she whispered, leaning close enough to whisper her breath over his lips. "I'll still need you."

He needed no encouragement to lose himself in another kiss, but then she withdrew. He groaned. "Should I wake you...?"

"You'd better. I don't have to work tomorrow."

"I shouldn't have to work tonight."

She brushed her lips across his. "Go. I'm not going anywhere."

With a deep sigh, he stood up from the bed, slipped into his shoes and grabbed his jacket. He paused at the door and she blew him a kiss. With another soft sigh, he slipped out the door. He didn't hear the little thud when Storm ran head-first into the closed door, but Barb did. She called the little kitten up onto the bed, laid down and let her snuggle with her. Storm curled into a tight ball, looked toward the door, and let out a little mew. Barb smoothed her hand over the kitten's soft fur. "I agree," she whispered and turned off the light.

* * *

There was no missing the crime scene. It was the middle of a city street, six patrol cars surrounded the cordoned-off area and CSU had moved in their floodlights. Eames was walking around the body of a young man as he approached, pulling on his gloves. She looked up. "You look like hell," she observed. 

"I had a difficult evening," he muttered, not about to get into how much better he would appear if she'd just called an hour later.

"How is Brian?"

"Very sick, and he looks it."

"I'm sorry."

He nodded and knelt beside the body. "So am I."

She watched him examine the hands and arms of the victim before moving to the man's ruined head. "Mr. Cavanaugh," she explained. "Took a nose dive off one of the upper floors of this building. We got called bacause he's a prominent Wall Street broker and someone called in to say he didn't jump of his own accord. Caller hung up before we could get anything on her."

"Female caller?"

"That's what they told me."

He eyed the man's pants and pointed out, "Belt's undone, so's the zipper. Maybe he wasn't alone. We should check with the doorman."

"This doorman came on after he was already home. We'll have to check with the previous shift. I tried calling him at home already, but there's no answer. His coworker says the guy likes to party after work."

He nodded absently and continued with his examination of the body. He spoke with one of the techs before motioning to his partner. "We're done here. I told them to have the ME check for body fluids around his genitals. We'll see if he was busy before he died."

"So we can go home now?"

He nodded. "Say hi to Teddy."

She studied his face as he turned away and grabbed his arm. "Is everything okay with you?"

"You mean other than Brian?"

"Is that what's troubling you?"

"If it wasn't you'd be taking my temperature."

"Probably. All right. Call me when you hear from CSU."

"I will." He hesitated. "I, uh, I'm sorry if I'm a bit...out of sorts. I don't mean to take it out on you."

Her smile morphed into a mischievous grin. "Then go home and deal with it. I'll expect you to at least start our next conversation with a hello."

She considered the light flush that snuck onto his face her reward and she hurried to her car. He waited for her to get into the car and drive off before he got into his. As he expected, Barb was asleep when he got home. What he didn't expect was to find Storm curled up with her. He smiled. When she heard him moving about, Storm lifted her head and softly mewed at him. He undressed and sat on the bed, and she got up and climbed onto his arm, then his leg. "Hey, trouble."

Settling her onto his pillow, he slid close to Barb and kissed her softly. It didn't take long for her to start to respond to him, and then he kept his word to make her forget things, just for a little while.

* * *

It was a beautiful Sunday, mild and sunny. Barb was busy in the kitchen while Bobby and Brian worked in the yard. She kept moving to the sink so she could look out the window into the backyard and watch them. Bobby was shovelling mulch over the ground beneath her plants while Brian cut spent blooms from the flowering bushes. They seemed to be getting along well, laughing and joking with each other. 

She took a plate of clean dishes and carried them to the dining room to put away. Turning from the dish cabinet, she stopped and softly laughed. "Oh, good grief. Bobby!"

Brian looked up at him and grinned. "Uh-oh. Someone's in trouble."

"How much do you want to bet it involves a ball of gray fur."

With a laugh, Brian said, "She's your cat. Go face the music."

He headed into the house and found her waiting for him, hands on hips, in the dining room, a look of mock annoyance on her face. He gave her a grin. "You called?"

"Look at your cat."

He reluctantly set his gaze in motion around the room, finally locating the source of her annoyance, curled up in the curve of three bananas, sound asleep in the fruit bowl. When he started to laugh, she reached out and smacked his shoulder. "It's not funny. We eat that fruit."

"Uh, don't you wash your fruit before you eat it?"

"That is not the point, Robert."

He stepped up to her and gave her a tentative kiss, then another when she didn't reject the first. "Okay," he whispered. "I'll get her."

He gathered the little cat in one hand. She lifted her head and yawned, then settled into his hand and closed her eyes again, purring loudly. "I guess she figured Marcus would never look for her in a bowl of fruit."

"Neither would I. Imagine that."

He leaned over and nuzzled her neck. "Cut it out," she said lightly. "I have things to do...and so do you." She trailed a finger over the kitten's head. "She's lucky she's so cute."

"Mmm-hmm," he agreed as he kissed her once more, then headed for the backyard again with the little cat. He stopped in the doorway to look back at her, and he winked. Once he was gone from the room, she began to laugh.

* * *

When they sat down to eat, Barb looked at Goren and said, "Thank you for keeping the little gray tornado out of the kitchen while I made dinner." 

He smiled and stifled a chuckle. "I warned you to watch out once she settled in. But I think she annoyed you enough today."

"Thank you for noticing."

Brian looked interested. "What did she do besides the fruit bowl?"

Goren looked down at his plate and Barb shot a glare in his direction. But both men knew she wasn't angry and Brian grinned at her. "Come on. Tell me."

"Bobby, do you want to tell him?"

He shook his head 'no.'

"You're still laughing about it, aren't you?"

When he nodded, she huffed at him. Brian looked from one to the other. "What?" he demanded.

His mother answered, "I was brushing my teeth this morning and I guess she wanted to see what I was doing. So she jumped up onto the toilet, which would have been fine except for the minor fact that the lid was up."

Brian covered his mouth to stifle a laugh but Goren began laughing and the young man couldn't help joining in. Barb looked at them. "It's fine for you both to laugh. You didn't have to fish her out of the toilet."

"You got even," Goren answered. Looking at Brian, he explained, "I was still sleeping when she dropped an annoyed, wet cat in the middle of my chest. She scrambled up over my shoulder and tried to bury herself under my neck."

"At least the water was clean and I gave you a towel to dry her off with." She looked at her son. "When I was done in the bathroom, I came out and he'd gone back to sleep. Storm was wrapped up in the towel, right up against his side, sleeping with him. I swear she's narcoleptic."

Goren laughed. "No. She's just a baby. Her swim wore her out."

"If she'd watch where she was jumping, she wouldn't have gone swimming."

He laughed again. "She's never watched where she's jumping."

"I have to watch her like a hawk in the kitchen. Yesterday, she tried to check out the chicken in the oven while I was basting it."

"She's curious."

"Curiosity is going to kill that cat if she pops into a pot of boiling water."

"You watch for her. That won't happen."

"You place a lot of trust in me."

She noticed the change in his expression as he replied, "Yes, I do."

Somehow Brian got the feeling they were no longer discussing the mischievous cat.


	40. A Little Talk Never Hurt Anyone

Goren was unsettled and that made him restless. It also made Eames wish she had a roll of duct tape. By lunchtime, she'd had enough. Neither of them was getting anything done. He needed to burn off some of that energy. "Come on, Bobby. Let's go get some lunch."

He looked up, surprised. Then he looked at the clock. It _was_ lunchtime. Where'd the time go? "Uh, aren't you having lunch with Teddy?"

"Not today. He started a project in Queens and it's a bit far to come downtown for lunch."

"You can go see him. I'll cover for you. There's not much to do right now anyway."

"Thanks. Maybe tomorrow. Today, I want to have lunch with you. Let's go."

He followed her out of the squadroom, still unsettled. He was surprised when she headed to the street level and not the parking garage. "Where are we going?"

"To the diner."

"That's a bit of a walk."

"It'll do you good."

He walked along with her but was soon lost in his thoughts. She wondered if it was the case or if something was wrong at home. Fervently hoping it was the case, she remained silent until their food arrived. Then, she asked him point blank, "All right, out with it. What's wrong?"

He looked up, surprised. "Wrong? What makes you think anything is wrong?"

"The way you've been fidgeting all morning. Something has you nervous. What is it?"

He sighed softly. "Nothing important."

"Then tell me."

He shifted uncomfortably. "I, uh...when I came in late on Monday...I didn't tell you the reason, and I'm sorry for that. I...don't know how to tell you, and that bothers me."

"Just say it. That usually works best."

"For you, it does."

Her patience was slipping. "Just _tell_ me."

"I went...to the doctor with Barb."

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing," he was quick to reply, noting the alarm on her face. "Everything is good. She's fine."

"So why did she have to go to the doctor?"

"It was routine...kind of."

"Kind of?"

"She..." He sighed heavily. "I'm not sure if I screwed up or not, Alex. She's pregnant."

She dropped her fork and stared at him. He shifted nervously, waiting for her to do something or say something. The staring unnerved him. "S-say something," he pleaded.

"Pregnant?"

"That's not quite what I meant."

She let the words process for another few minutes. Barb was pregnant. "How do you feel about it?"

That wasn't what he expected either, and he had no idea how to reply. "I-I don't know...I have such a jumble of emotion inside. The timing really sucks."

"What does Brian think?"

"She's not sure she wants to tell him. She doesn't want him to have any regrets."

"I think she should tell him."

"So do I. But that's her call. I won't interfere with that."

"He's going to notice."

"He may not be around when it gets that far."

"Oh, Bobby..." She was quiet for a few more minutes. "How is she feeling?"

"Tired. Sick sometimes. But okay generally."

"How far along is she?"

"Thirteen weeks."

"And what is she telling you about it?"

"Everything will be fine and I'll make a-a great dad even though I didn't have...such a great one myself."

He'd told her about his father. Another step in the right direction. "I agree with her. Now tell me why you aren't marrying her."

"What?"

"Come on. I know you and I know your upbringing."

He sighed. She did know him. "She...she wants to be certain I'm not going to marry her because of the baby."

"Are you?"

"No. I started thinking about it a while ago."

"So why didn't you say anything?"

"I wasn't certain it was the right thing to do, until that first night on the docks, after Cal and I got nabbed. But I didn't have time to say anything until after I went undercover, and by then she knew she was pregnant."

"So she said no?"

"Not exactly. I...I didn't ask. She beat me to it and told me we aren't ready for marriage. Not yet."

"Do you agree?"

"I guess so. We still have things to work through. But I'm not going anywhere. I..." He sighed. "I'll marry her whenever she's ready for it."

"What about you? Are you ready for it?"

"I'm trying."

"Then keep trying and when you can tell me that you're definitely ready, _then_ it will be time to present it to her again." She reached out to him and ran her fingers along the back of his hand. "You'll get there, Bobby. You've already started the journey," she smiled. "Now eat your lunch...and settle down or I swear I will duct tape you to your chair."

* * *

With his head propped on his hand, Goren slowly flipped through the crime scene photos and evidence reports from the jumper they'd been called out a few days earlier. He was home, sitting at his desk, Storm curled up in his lap, purring softly. His mind was churning as he processed what he saw in comparison with what he read. Something wasn't sitting right with him. The pieces were just not falling into place, but he couldn't see why. There was either a key piece missing or a wrong piece sitting in the middle of everything.

A knock at the door drew his attention from the file and he looked over his shoulder at the door. Brian grinned at him from the hallway. "Am I intruding?"

"No." He shuffled the papers together and slid them into their file. "Come on in."

As he stepped into the room, Brian looked around. "Man...I haven't been in here since Pop died."

Goren frowned. "Why not?"

He shrugged. "My dad died when I was little, but Pop was like a father to me. After he died, I just never could bring myself to come back in here. Mom spent lots of time in here during the first few years after his death. She said she felt close to him again when she was in here. I dealt with the loss better by staying away."

"Do you think I'm intruding?"

"Not at all." He looked around the room again. "It's like this is a different room. There's even a different feel to it. I agree with Mom. This room suits you." He was quiet for a moment. "And you suit the room, Bobby."

Goren accepted his assurance. "Was there something you wanted to talk about?"

"Yes. I wanted to talk about Mom."

Goren got to his feet, settling Storm in the crook of his arm, and wheeled the desk chair toward Brian, who was grateful for the consideration. He sat down with a grateful smile. "I hate being tired all the time."

"How's the pain?"

"Not too bad yet. I understand I have lots more to look forward to, and soon." He recognized the look on Goren's face as he leaned back against the file cabinet. "I have come to terms with this, you know. I know I'm dying. But I'm worried about Mom. I don't think she's ready to deal with this."

"I don't think so either."

"This is going to be terribly difficult for her."

"Yes, it will be, but she knows that."

Brian was quiet for a moment. "Did she tell you that I almost moved back home last year, after you broke up with her?"

A disturbed look floated across Goren's face. "She told you that? She said I broke up with her?"

"Uh...well, no. She never talked to me about her relationships. She had only just started talking about you when it was over. I just assumed..." He paused, looking uncomfortable. "Did I assume wrong?"

Goren turned to look out the window into the backyard. Barb was walking around the yard, a jacket pulled tight around her, giving the yard a final once over to make sure everything was ready for winter. His mind wandered until it was brought back by Brian quietly calling his name. Reluctantly, he turned back to the room, to the conversation Brian had uncomfortably initiated. "I have never intentionally hurt your mother."

Silence for a moment. "I was fifteen before I realized that Mom dated, even though it was rare. She never told me about any of her dates, though, until you. That's how I knew she was serious: she told me about you. But then, all of a sudden, she became withdrawn and upset, and she stopped talking about you. I just guessed it was over...and I assumed..."

When he trailed off, Goren filled in, "You assumed I was the one who broke it off."

"Well, yeah. She was so..." He sighed, embarrassed. "I never imagined she had been the one to end it." Goren remained silent and so he went on. "I was worried about her, and I told her I was going to move back home. But she told me no. She said I needed to live my life and leave her to live hers."

"She wanted what was best for you."

"Always. She put her entire life on hold for me. Then...I thought you might be her white knight...but I was wrong...until you got shot." He leaned forward and stared at his hands. "Mom never let me see her cry, Bobby. Not even when Pop died. But when I talked to her that night they brought you in...she couldn't hide it. They didn't think you were going to make it, and it broke her up that you might die without knowing how she felt. She never stopped loving you."

Goren turned to look back out the window. He heard Brian get up from the chair and move to the window to stand beside him. "She's a beautiful woman," Brian said softly.

"Yes."

"And she loves you."

"I know."

"I can see how much you love her, too. I see it in your eyes, and I can hear it in your voice. She has the same...fire...in her eyes." When Goren shifted uncomfortably, Brian laughed softly. "I don't have time to pussyfoot around about stuff like this, Bobby. I know this is none of my business, and I'm not sure where your relationship is, but...do you plan to...I mean, are you going to eventually...marry her?"

Caught off guard by the question, Goren looked at him. Brian gave him a shy grin. "I know...I've overstepped. It's between you and Mom. I was just wondering. Forget I asked..."

"No. I understand your concern. That's something that has...been on my mind. But she's not ready."

"Did she tell you that?"

He nodded. "Yes, she did, but she had a reason."

Brian sighed. "Bobby, my mother is the most important person in the world to me. I'm only 20, and I don't have much experience with the adult world, but I know that I want her to be happy, and with you, she is. Please, just promise me something."

"What's that?"

"The next few months will be very hard for her, and more than anyone else, she's going to need you. I don't want her to be sad all the time. Just...keep her laughing...like she was last night."

"You, uh, you heard?"

Brian laughed at the big cop's embarrassment. "I was up to go to the bathroom...that happens a lot to me. I just heard her laughing, and it was great to hear. Just...keep her happy."

"I'll do everything I can, Brian. Just understand that half the time you hear her laughing, it's Storm that's responsible, not me."

Brian reached out and stroked the small cat still sleeping in the crook of Goren's arm. "I don't doubt that. I have your word though? You won't let her stay sad?"

"I'll do my best to make her happy, Brian."

He nodded, satisfied. "Thank you. I am going to lay down for a little while before dinner."

Goren watched him leave the room. He walked back to the window and watched Barb for a few minutes, then he looked at the closed file on his desk. He was tempted to go back to it, but three hours reviewing photos and reports only left him drained. The temptation to head downstairs and out into the yard was much stronger. He set Storm on the seat of his chair and left the room.

In his bedroom, Brian removed his shirt and pulled the shade on the window that overlooked his mother's rose garden. The other window looked out into the backyard. He grabbed the shade, but hesitated before pulling it down. He watched his mother walking around the yard, arms wrapped around her midsection. Goren came out into the yard and walked up behind her, slipping his arms around her as she leaned back into him. He leaned down and spoke into her ear. Laughing, she turned and hugged him. With a smile, Brian pulled down the shade and lay down on the bed.


	41. Revelations and Old Wounds

Late that night, she nestled in his arms, sliding her fingers over the sheen of sweat that covered his chest, proud of herself for having put it there. When she had begun to play with him, indicating interest in more than sleep, he'd chased Storm from the bed, and she obligingly left in search of something else to do.

Barb could help laughing when a little gray head popped up over the edge of the mattress and looked at them. He opened one eye and looked at her, not needing to guess who she was laughing at but definitely wondering why. Storm climbed the rest of the way onto the bed and pounced from the mattress onto Barb's hand, which she wrapped her legs around and began to wrestle with. "She's back."

"So I see."

"She doesn't look in the least bit tired."

"She'll wear herself out."

"I know. I'm just afraid of what she's going to do to wear herself out."

"The door's closed and I haven't heard Marcus growling, so I guess he's with Brian. What can she get into?"

He gently pushed the kitten over onto her back and she immediately rolled back onto her feet and pounced on his hand. He rolled her over again, and this time she tried to pop up onto her feet and pounce on his hand in one smooth, fluid, feline motion, but she miscalculated and vanished over the side of the bed. Barb laughed and they looked over the side of the bed where Storm shook herself off and bounded toward the closet. Since her litter box was in the back corner of the closet, they thought nothing of it.

Barb settled her head back against his shoulder. "Bobby," she began, continuing to run her fingers over his chest. "There are a couple of things I ought to tell you."

He laid his hand over hers to still its path across his skin. "Serious?"

"Not light, but not terrible."

He threaded his fingers into hers and said, "Go ahead."

"I took a leave of absence from work. I need to be around Brian while I can be."

"And you think I'd have a problem with that?"

"No. I just want to let you know. I'll probably continue it through to include my maternity leave."

"Okay. Whatever you need to do."

"The other thing is...Ray Harper and his wife are coming for dinner tomorrow night. So if you can make it home before seven, that would be nice. I know you can't predict it sometimes. Just try."

"I'll do my best. But, why are they coming to dinner?"

"There's something about Ray and Elsie I need to tell you." She hesitated for a moment. "I have known them for a very long time. Bobby, Brian's last name isn't Weaver. That's my maiden name. His last name is Harper. Ray and Elsie are Kevin's parents. That's one reason I was able to convince Ray to discharge you early after you were shot. He knows me well enough to know I would take good care of you. And it's why he came over the night you and Cal were injured. Come to think of it, he didn't seem at all surprised when I started seeing you again. He has always liked you, and he and Elsie both approve of you."

"Suppose they didn't?"

She softly kissed him. "I do not live my life with or for anyone else's approval...except yours. They just seem happy I have found someone to love. Kevin's been gone a very long time. Ray is glad it's you, because he knows you're a good man and you'll take care of me."

"What about the baby? How does he feel about that?"

She withdrew her hand from his and continued to caress his chest. "My parents are dead and so is your father. Your mother will not have much opportunity to be a grandparent. Ray and Elsie are willing to step in as surrogate grandparents, but only if you're all right with it."

"Me?"

She moved her head so she could see his face. "This is as much your baby as it is mine, you know."

"I-I'm still have a time thinking of myself as a father. It's something I've always wanted but never thought would happen."

"Why not?"

He gave his answer some careful thought. "Let's just say I have never been very successful with long term relationships."

"Well, you're in one now, at least with this baby."

"Do you question my committment to you, Barb?"

"No, sweetheart. But I don't want the 'long-term' part of it to be because of the baby."

"It's not. I can promise you that."

"Okay, I'll take your word for it. But before we take a more serious step forward, I have to be convinced you no longer resent me for what I did."

"Barb..."

A loud crash from the closet interrupted them. He bolted from the bed, yanked on his sweatpants and pushed open the closet door, with Barb right behind him, pulling on his t-shirt. There were clothes all over the floor where Storm had pulled them from their hangers by swinging on them. Somehow, she had managed to climb up onto a shelf and work her way into a box of assorted odds and ends, which toppled over the edge of the shelf to crash to the floor and break open. In the middle of it all, the kitten struggled to untangle herself from the sleeve of one of his dress shirts. "Is she okay?" Barb asked.

He leaned over and extricated the little troublemaker from her cloth prison. He held her up level with his face and she mewed at him. "You did it yourself, you little disaster."

She licked his nose and mewed again. Barb laughed. "She told you."

There was a knock at the door. "Come on in, Brian," she called out.

He came into the room as Barb and Goren came out of the closet. He looked at the little culprit in Goren's hand. "The gray tornado strikes again?"

"How'd you guess?" Goren asked.

"It wasn't hard. Is she okay?"

"She seems fine."

"She sure causes a lot of trouble for being so tiny."

Goren smiled. "Don't let size fool you, Brian. You haven't met my partner yet. And I learned the hard way not to cross your mother."

Brian laughed. "You have a point there."

"Okay, boys..." Barb said with exaggerated patience.

Laughing, Brian kissed his mother, said good night and headed back to his room. Goren carried the kitten to the bed. "Okay, trouble," he said, depositing her onto his pillow. "Stay there while we clean up your mess."

He rejoined Barb in the closet, stopping when he realized exactly what had been in the ruined box. "Barb?"

"I know, I know," she said, looking around her at the assortment of infant and toddler toys surrounding her. "Call me sentimental."

He knelt beside her. "Barb?" he repeated.

She continued picking up the toys in silence until he touched her chin and guided her face toward his, so he could meet her eyes. She let out an unsteady breath. "I never intended for Brian to be an only child," she admitted. "Things just worked out that way. K-Kevin wasn't supposed to die. There was supposed to be a 'happily ever after' in there."

He wasn't sure how to respond to that. He wanted to hug her, but something told him that was the wrong thing to do. She wasn't looking for sympathy. He picked up a little rattle in the shape of a barbell with colorful beads inside it. He rattled it idly, which brought Storm bounding back into the closet, looking frantically for the source of the noise. He tossed the rattle toward the bed and she charged after it, making Barb laugh. She met his eyes. "It's impossible not to laugh around that cat."

"She's something else, I'll give you that." He sighed. "It doesn't really matter, I suppose, but in the grand scheme of things, I never expected there to be a 'happily ever after' in my life at all. So you're getting a second chance, and I'm getting one hell of a shock. At least you had a taste of it for a little while. For me, it's a whole new experience."

"Good or bad?"

He touched her cheek. "Better than I ever knew it could be," he murmured, leaning over to give her a soft kiss.

She ran three fingers lightly down his cheek and he smiled. Sincerity allowed that smile to touch his eyes, and she was reassured. But she broke contact and turned back to the toys around her, and he allowed her to retreat. She let him go often enough. He turned his attention to hanging the clothes back on their hangers.

In silence, he mulled something over in his mind, trying to decide if this was a good time to broach the subject he'd been brooding over for the last few days. Maybe there was no such thing as a good time for it. So he took a stab at now, hoping she wouldn't get angry. "Barb, do you mind if I give you some input about something that's none of my business?"

"Like what?"

"I...I think you should tell Brian about the baby."

She looked at the little teddy bear in her hands. Setting it on the pile of toys stacked on the remnants of the box, she stood and moved past him out of the closet. He'd been right. The right time didn't exist, and he wondered what damage he'd just done. _Dammit_. He was going to learn to keep his damn mouth shut one way or another. Deciding it best to leave her alone to get over whatever anger his interference had initiated, he finished hanging the clothes and setting the toys in the corner on the box. Turning off the light in the closet and pulling the door mostly closed, he stopped to watch her sitting on the bed, and he rubbed the back of his neck. "I...I know I have no business saying anything, but that's how I feel."

"And if I disagree?"

"I won't argue with you. It's your decision."

"And you won't go against it?"

"No, Barb. I won't."

She patted the mattress beside her, sighing softly when a fluff of gray fur appeared from the bed behind her and attached herself to her wrist. "Speedy little thing."

He pried his kitten from Barb's wrist and set her on the floor. Then he went to his dresser and pulled out a notebook. Tearing a blank sheet from it, he crumpled it and tossed it across the room. Storm happily chased the paper ball, batting it around the room as she scrambled after it. He returned to the bed and sat beside Barb, gently pulling her into a hug. "I'll go along with anything you decide, baby," he assured her. "But I really think you ought to tell him."

"Why? Suppose it upsets him, makes him think we're replacing him?"

"Replacing him? Is that how you feel about this baby?"

"No, not at all. But that's how I'm afraid Brian will feel."

He gave that some thought as he held her. "I never thought he'd think that. How can you ever replace a child? That's just not possible." He sighed softly. "I'm sorry I brought it up. I don't want to tell you what to do or to make you mad, and I am sorry if I overstepped my boundaries, but that's what I think."

She smoothed her hand over his skin. "I'll think about it, all right? And you didn't."

"Didn't what?"

"Overstep your boundaries or make me mad. Please never be afraid to talk to me. I want to know how you feel. I'm not going to chase you away because you have an opinion."

He kissed her head. "And I harbor no resentment because life became overwhelming for you and you ran from something that scared you."

She turned her face toward his. "Scared me? I have never been afraid of you."

"I never said you were afraid of me. You were afraid of what you were starting to feel toward me. I was scared, too, but I was also interested enough to give it a try. You had too much hit you all at once. If we'd at least been able to start something, I think you'd have chosen to turn toward me instead of away from me."

"You mean if we'd started sleeping together?"

"No, not even that far. Maybe if we'd been able to at least finish a couple of dates, we'd have been all right."

"So what's your opinion of us now? Are we all right?"

"I think we are. But I'm not so sure you think so. And until you do, you're right. Asking you to marry me is the wrong step."

He gave her a soft kiss and got up from the bed. She sensed he was upset. "Bobby?" He turned to look at her. "When did you decide you wanted to marry me?"

"Does it matter, Barb?"

"I'd like to know."

He was quiet for a long moment, debating whether or not he wanted to tell her. Finally deciding it couldn't do any more damage, he said, "That night I was out on the docks with Cal, the night we got grabbed. I did a lot of thinking that night about my life, and I decided that I couldn't lose you again. That's why I said I'd move in. I no longer needed another place to go. The only home I have any more is wherever you are. And I was right about that."

"So you still think it's the right decision?"

"I never thought it was the wrong one."

He left the room and she decided to let him go.


	42. How Do I Fix It?

Brian was up early. He never slept more than three or four hours at a stretch any more. He opened his dresser drawer and counted out his morning cocktail of seven capsules that he'd let his doctor talk him into taking. Of the seven, three were for pain. Sometimes he needed them, sometimes he didn't. This morning he did.

Dropping the pills into a medicine cup, he headed downstairs for something to eat. Appetite or not, he learned it was in his best interest to have something in his stomach when he took his medicine. Nausea and vomiting were now a part and parcel of his life, but every chance he got to avoid them, he readily took.

At the bottom of the stairs, he was met by Marcus. "Hey, old man," he said with a smile, leaning down to ruffle the old cat's head. Marcus had been a gift from Pop the year before he died. He'd always planned to take him to Chicago once he got settled, and he'd decided he was ready to take him when he was diagnosed. Sometimes life threw some odd curveballs. "Come on. It's time for breakfast. I hope Mom got Frosted Flakes when she went to the store."

He crossed the living room and stopped near the fireplace, surprised to find Bobby asleep on the couch. The empty bottle on the coffee table told him one of two things. Either the big guy had trouble sleeping and hadn't wanted to disturb his mother, or they'd had a disagreement and he was seeking a salve for his upset. They didn't argue often, but it was always upsetting to them both. He only hoped that if it had been an argument, he was not the cause.

He continued into the kitchen, set up the coffee pot and flipped it on. Then he reached for a bowl. As he carried the bowl down toward the counter, the strength suddenly left his hand and the bowl went crashing to the countertop, where it broke. Half the pieces tumbled to the floor where they broke into smaller pieces and shards. "Damn," he muttered.

He looked at the shattered bowl for a moment before he went to the narrow closet beside the refrigerator to retrieve the broom and the dustpan and brush. With a paper towel he brushed the broken pieces of bowl onto the floor where he swept them all into a pile. "Brian? Are you all right?"

He looked up toward the doorway, where Bobby leaned against the doorjamb. "I woke you," the young man observed. "Sorry. I'm fine. Just a clutz." He studied Bobby for a moment longer. He wasn't obviously hungover, and that made Brian wonder if he'd even been drunk. "Um, you and Mom have a fight?"

"No. Not really. Let me give you a hand."

Brian grinned. "It's my mess. I can get it. There's fresh coffee there." He finished sweeping the broken bowl into a pile. "You mind if I ask what your not-really-an-argument was about?"

"It had nothing to do with you, Brian. Your mom...is still dealing with the time we were separated, that's all."

"She feels bad about hurting you."

He could tell from Bobby's reaction that it was a sore subject, and he was surprised when the big man continued. "She thinks...she thinks I want to marry her because of the..." _Oh, shit..._he'd damn near slipped. "...circumstances, uh, surrounding our...our reunion."

_Okay, that sounded lame. Shit._

Brian studied him. "That makes no sense."

"Yeah. I know. I..." he trailed off, uncertain. He felt strongly that Brian had a right to know about this baby, but he felt equally strongly that it was not his place to tell him. "It's not a big deal, Brian."

"So why _do_ you want to marry her?"

He could tell Brian didn't believe his spur-of-the-moment explanation to cover his slip. Under other circumstances, he would object to explaining something like this to her son. This was a conversation he should have with his partner, to unscramble his thoughts and feelings...a talk he fully intended to have with her later in the day. Maybe Alex could explain Barb to him. After all, she was a woman and she'd once been pregnant. Maybe she understood.

Brian misread his hesitation. "Never mind, Bobby. It's none of my business." He bent over to sweep up the broken bowl. "All that really matters to me is that you make her happy. She loves you and that makes me happy to see."

"Why do _you_ think I want to marry her?" Bobby asked, needing to hear an outsider's assessment of his observations of him and Barb.

Brian dumped the broken bowl into the trash. "I know why I hope you'd want to marry her."

"Why's that?"

"Because you love her."

Bobby's face relaxed into a smile. "Bingo," he said softly. "I just wish I knew a way to convince her of that. I'd better get ready for work. It's getting late."

"Late? It's five-thirty."

"I usually get in by seven."

"You want something to eat before you go?"

"No thanks. I always pick something up on the way in. It's a routine Eames and I have established."

Brian watched him step away from the doorway. He returned a moment later and dropped the empty bottle into the recycling container. When he set his glass in the sink, he reached up and got a bowl from the cabinet, placing it on the counter. He gently patted Brian's shoulder and left the kitchen. Brian smiled. "Thanks," he called as he opened the pantry and removed the box of cereal he wanted.

Bobby quietly opened the door to the bedroom, not wanting to disturb Barb. An excited mewing greeted him as he closed the door. Bending over to pick up the kitten, he shushed her. She rubbed her head against his thumb and mewed again. Jumping at him, she attached herself to the front of his shirt and climbed to his shoulder, where she settled as he crossed the room to the closet. He chose a suit and turned off the light. Laying his suit over the back of a chair, he got ready for his shower, set the kitten on the bed and went into the bathroom.

When he returned to the bedroom, he looked toward the bed. Storm lay curled against Barb's shoulder. He smiled as he pulled his shirt from its hanger and slid it on. He was comfortable and happy here, with his life and his life's circumstances. He was deeply disturbed by Brian's situation and the effect it had on Barb, but beyond that, his life was better than it had ever been. But he was totally at a loss about how to convince Barb of that, and when she questioned his feelings for her, it hurt him deeply.

Standing in front of the mirror, he was tying his tie when he heard movement on the bed. He thought she was just readjusting herself, so he was surprised when she came up behind him and slid her arms around him, resting her head against his back. "I'm sorry, Bobby."

Turning, he drew her into his arms. "For what?"

"For upsetting you last night."

He shrugged. "I...can be sensitive sometimes. I suppose I overreacted, but I felt like you were questioning my commitment to you. That's not fair, Barb. I think I've proved over and over again that I want to be with you, and I really don't think I've given any impression that I resent you for anything. If I'm wrong, tell me so I can fix it. I-I don't harbor hard feelings for very long. I learned a long time ago to let go of things and not let them eat at me."

He released her and turned back to the mirror to finish tying his tie. He tucked in his shirt and tightened his belt. She watched him clip his badge on his belt and put his gun in its holster. Absently, he said, "I'll get a gun safe for the office. I can keep my guns in it, safely away from the baby."

His planning for the future, for their future, reassured her. "That's a good idea."

He slid his switchblade into one front pocket and a clean handkerchief into the other and pulled on his jacket, dropping his phone into a pocket. Any other day, he would have let her coax him back to the bed for a little while, but he just wasn't in the mood this morning. He had a lingering sour mood and a dull headache. She could have fixed both in short order, but he was hanging onto his hurt feelings for just a little while longer because she had hurt him, and he felt that she needed to be fully aware of that. He was not conscious of harboring any resentment on his part, and it disturbed him that she thought he did.

She sat at the foot of the bed and watched him drop his wallet into a back pocket and loose change into a front one. Then he turned to look at her. "Let me know what I need to do to prove myself, Barb. You have no clue what a huge step it was for me to move in here with you. And to even consider asking you to marry me..." He sighed. "I don't know what else to do. If I'm doing anything to make you think I haven't gotten over what happened, tell me. But I don't think the issue is with me. I think you're the one who can't let it go. Until you can, you're right. Marriage is the wrong step, and I am sorry I brought it up. We...have more to work through than I thought we did." He stepped toward her and gently kissed her forehead. "But I do love you, very much. More than you know, apparently. I'll try to be home by six."

She watched him leave; he didn't look back. She sat there, uncertain, and Storm bounced around on the bed until she was beside her. She sat down and mewed. Barb gathered the little cat in her arms and kissed her furry head. "Do you think I messed things up, Storm?" Storm rubbed her head against Barb's chin and purred. "So how do I make it right?"

Storm mewed again and jumped down to the floor. She trotted to the door and waited patiently. "Okay, I can take a hint...usually. You want breakfast."

She went into the bathroom, got dressed and headed downstairs. She was surprised to find Brian sitting at the dining table eating a bowl of cereal, and she leaned down to kiss his cheek. "You're up early."

"I don't sleep well lately. I'm using up the hours of sleep I hoarded as a teenager."

She smiled. "You should have plenty stored."

He watched her as she went into the kitchen and fed Storm, then poured herself a cup of coffee. "Uh, is something wrong, Mom?"

"Like what?"

"Well, Bobby slept on the couch and took off for work about forty-five minutes earlier than he usually does. And he is usually the one who feeds the little hurricane."

"He wanted to be in the office early today. Is something wrong with that?"

"Not at all. But I've never seen him sleep on the couch."

"What did he tell you?"

"Before or after he tossed the empty scotch bottle into recycling?"

That disturbed her even more than his night on the couch. "Did he say anything?"

"Only that you didn't really have a fight, which I don't believe. And that you misunderstand his desire to marry you."

"Did he tell you why he thinks that?"

"No, Mom. He doesn't confide in me, especially about you. All he really does is assure me that he loves you. I don't get the impression he's just telling me something he thinks I want to hear. I really do believe that he loves you."

"I know he does."

"Do you love him? Honestly?"

"Yes, nosy, I do." She kissed his head. "I have to go to the store. Do you want to come along?"

"Sure. Gran and Poppa are coming for dinner?"

"Yes."

"Good," he smiled. "I've missed them. Just give me a few minutes to change. Eat something, Mom. Don't worry about Bobby. He's not going anywhere."

She watched him set his bowl in the sink and head for the stairs, hoping he was right.

* * *

Eames looked across the booth at the diner, watching Goren push his food around on his plate. He had been withdrawn and quiet all morning, his usual energy subdued, and she was getting concerned. "Are you feeling all right?"

He looked up, as though surprised to find her there. His eyes cleared quickly, though, and he shrugged, "I'm fine." She waited, knowing there was more, and sure enough, he went on. "Uh, can I ask you something, Eames?"

"Go ahead."

"You were pregnant."

"And?"

"I, uh, never noticed that you were ever...irrational."

"Do you have a point here?"

"J-just when I think everything is all right, Barb says something that turns everything on its edge, at least for me. No one can unsettle me like she can."

"Welcome to the world of serious relationships."

"You mean that's normal?"

"For a pregnant woman? It can be."

"So she doesn't really mean it?"

"Mean what, Bobby?"

"She accused me of still resenting her...but I don't. And I don't understand why she thinks I do, unless it's because she still resents herself for doing it..."

"Tell me you didn't tell her that." He looked down at his untouched meal and remained silent. She shook her head. "Why? What purpose did that serve?"

"It made her aware that she was doing it. B-but I share the blame. It's not an all or nothing thing. I just...I don't think I've been sending any signals to tell her I resent her."

"You are looking for rational reactions from a pregnant woman under an undue amount of stress. Stop it."

He sighed in resignation, and she felt sorry for him. Setting down his fork, he muttered, "So what do I do?"

"What you're best at. Apologize to her."

"But I didn't do anything wrong."

"Does that matter? Really?"

"She gets mad when I apologize for nothing. She keeps telling me to stop trying to fix the world."

"You do have a tendency to do that."

"So you want me to make everything right by pissing her off? How is that going to help?"

"Just talk to her, Goren. Don't jump to conclusions and don't shut down. Have a serious talk with her. Listen to her and she'll listen to you."

"I've been trying. You know how hard it is for me to do that."

"Keep trying. Don't give up on her."

"I have no intention of that. I'll keep trying...but...things like this...hurt."

Again, she felt sorry for him. "Tell her that. Don't keep things to yourself or you _will_ end up resenting her. She can't read your mind, Bobby. Look, go home and work this out with her. I'll cover for you with Deakins. All we're doing this afternoon is paperwork and I end up doing most of it anyway. I'll figure out some way for you to pay me back."

"Why does that sound ominous?"

She laughed. "Go home. Say hi to Barb and Brian for me."

He slid out of the booth and pulled out his wallet, dropping thirty dollars on the table. "Thanks, Alex. I do owe you."

She smiled at him. "Damn right you do," she agreed.

She watched him leave the diner. He was a lot of work, but ultimately, he was well worth the effort. To this day, she did not regret staying partners with him, and she had the added benefit of being his closest friend. Few things in her life meant more to her than that.


	43. A Choice to Make

He let himself into the house, not surprised to be attacked by his little gray tornado. "Hey, you little monster," he said as he leaned down and caught her at his knee. "You're going to ruin this suit."

She answered him with a mew and he smiled. "Yeah, I know. You don't care."

She snuggled into the crook of his arm as he headed for the kitchen where he heard Barb and Brian talking. He stopped in the doorway and watched them as they worked over the dinner roast. "More salt," Brian said.

"Too much salt is bad for you."

Brian looked at her. "What's it gonna do to me, Ma?" She looked away, but he drew her attention back with a finger under her chin. "Don't be sad. Life is what it is. You worked hard to teach me that, every time I asked you why Dad had to die. I learned to accept the things I can't change, and I've accepted this. Now salt the roast."

She couldn't help laughing. "I love you, Brian."

"Yeah, I know. I love you, too. A little more."

She handed him the salt shaker and turned to get something from the refrigerator, stopping when she saw Goren standing there watching them. "Bobby, what are you doing home?"

"I said I'd try to be home by six."

"It's two-thirty."

"And? I can go back to work."

"No. I'm glad you're home."

"Are you?"

Brian closed the oven door after sliding in the roast and pointed an accusing finger at him. "Not an argument, my ass."

"Brian..." his mother scolded.

He stepped to her side and kissed her temple. "Talk it out," he said quietly. "I'm going to take a shower. Let me know when I can come back down."

He took Storm from Goren's arm and gave him a grin of encouragement. To the kitten, he said, "Come on, hairball. I'll find something for you to play with."

Silence descended on the room with the young man's departure. Barb looked at him. "Bobby..."

He held up a hand. "Don't," he muttered. "I don't want an apology, Barb. I know you're sorry you hurt me, and I get that. I don't need an apology for that. That's not why I came home."

She sensed this was a turning point in their relationship, a make-it-or-break-it conversation. The outcome of this talk would take one of two paths: they would either remain together or he would retreat for good and she would never get him back.

He walked away from the doorway and headed to the living room. She followed and sat beside him on the couch. He rubbed his forehead.

"Headache?" she asked.

"A small one."

"Hangover?"

"A small one," he repeated.

"You're still upset."

"Uh, yes. I am."

When he looked at her, she met his eyes, and she knew he was aware of the importance of this conversation. There was no smile, no spark of playfulness or passion in him. He shifted uneasily. "Tell me, Barb," he said softly. "Did I make a mistake? M-maybe I should have kept my apartment after all."

"Why, Bobby? So you'd have someplace to run to every time we have a fight? You need to stop running away at some point."

His anger flared. "And you need to stop projecting your insecurities onto me."

She stared at him, her own anger rising. "Excuse me?"

"Come on, Barb..." She watched him get to his feet and begin pacing angrily. "Are you going to accuse me of resentment every time I get upset? Is everything going to fall backwards whenever you feel the need to question my commitment to you? Or will you blame the baby for making me stay against my will? Because I can't handle that. It's just not true." His tone softened. "I told you I would have understood. That wasn't a lie. I do understand. I know why you pushed me away and I can deal with that. I _have_ dealt with it. What I can't handle is having it thrown in my face time and time again. Don't tell me how I feel or how you think I should feel. I know how I feel. I know why I'm here, why I stay. For the first time in my life I'm not second-guessing myself. I don't need you doing it for me." He stopped pacing and looked at her. "Stop beating yourself up over something you can't change. It's over; put it behind you. Just stop throwing it in my face."

"Bobby, if I wasn't pregnant, would we be having this conversation?"

He stared at her, blinking slowly. Then he shook his head and walked to the fireplace. She could read defeat in his posture. When he turned back to her, she could read it in his face; he was giving up. "I don't know what more I can do to prove myself to you. I-I am sorry I got you pregnant. That was never my intention. But...this baby is...incidental...right now." She opened her mouth to say something and he felt another surge of anger. He pointed a finger at her. "Don't go reading anything into that, dammit. I'm still adjusting, but don't think for a moment that I won't love the baby. I'm just trying to get through to you. I love you and that's the only reason I'm here. I can be a father apart from you." His anger faded quickly. "But I'll never be complete without you."

He was struggling. It was his natural inclination to withdraw from situations exactly like this one. It was a testament to his true heart that he remained and she knew that. She watched him fight the learned behavior of a lifetime, his lifetime. But she had no idea what to say that would reassure him. She couldn't find the words. Overwhelmed, she buried her head in folded arms and tried not to cry as despair washed over her. There had to be a way to make this right, but she wasn't seeing it.

He stayed by the fireplace, uncertain and torn. There were two choices in front of him; their relationship would depend on which he chose. If he withdrew and walked out the door, as was his tendency, he would cripple their future. But if he went to her side, he would be telling her there was nothing they could not work through. Withdraw or commit, the choice was his.

How strong was the conditioning of his life versus the power of his love for her? He struggled with himself before making his decision. He moved away from the fireplace.


	44. Never Run

His first inclination was to head for the door, to withdraw from his pain by running away. But when he turned away from the fireplace and stepped in that direction, a soft sob stopped him in his tracks. It wasn't easy to overcome an instinct that had been developed over a lifetime, one that taught him to turn into himself and pull away from anything that hurt him. He struggled as he watched her sitting there, shoulders slumped in defeat and gently heaving, face buried in her hands.

She just knew she had destroyed the best thing in her life. Losing Brian was threatening to tear her apart. The only thing keeping her together, enabling her to face the most devastating event in her life, was Bobby, and she had succeeded in driving him away with her insecurity. Why could she not simply accept what he offered? He was right. She was projecting her insecurities onto him. She did need to let it go...but it no longer mattered. Nothing mattered. She had lost him, and she would never recover from the loss. When Brian died, her destruction would be complete.

He could not force himself to continue to the door. With more purpose than he thought he had, he crossed the distance to the couch and eased himself down beside her, pulling her into his arms. He didn't know what to say, so he remained silent. That, too, turned out to be the right thing to do.

When he sat beside her and drew her into his arms, she lost it, sobbing uncontrollably into his chest from a mixture of remorse and relief. She felt his lips press into her head, and she cried harder. His hand gently rubbed her back and he murmured soft words of comfort to her that gradually became a soft plea. "Baby, please stop crying. I'm not going anywhere. Ever."

She tightened her grip around him and let her grief continue to flow out. He had no idea what to do, but he got the feeling that this was something she had been holding back all along. This grief had been driving her insecurity, possibly even subconsciously testing the level of his devotion. He had passed that test and the result was this final catharsis. The only thing he knew to do was let her cry it out.

Gradually, her sobs subsided and she relaxed against him. He gently brushed her hair back from her face and kissed her temple. Softly, still nestled against his chest, she said, "I have been so unfair to you."

He wasn't sure he agreed, not entirely, but he didn't say anything. She continued to sit there, holding him and letting herself settle. Finally, she drew back to look at him. "Can you forgive me?"

"What's to forgive?"

She threw her arms around his neck and hugged him tight. "I love you," she whispered into his ear.

He sifted his fingers through her hair. "I love you, too." He kissed the side of her head. "I really do."

She turned her face toward him and he found her mouth, kissing her deeply. When she reluctantly broke the kiss and pulled back, she fingered his tie for a moment before looking at his face. "So am I forgiven?"

His smile was relaxed, and she was relieved to see that familiar spark back in his eyes. He toyed with the buttons on her shirt and she found herself laughing. She didn't need another answer. "Do you feel better?" he asked.

She kissed him. "Better than I've felt in a long time."

"You needed that."

She nodded. "Yes, I did. I guess I really hadn't dealt with everything I was feeling, and it all just piled up on me until it came to a head. And I'm afraid you bore the brunt of it."

His hands fell away from her shirt and he looked at her, his playful gleam gone. Sincerity had taken its place. "Don't get mad at me," he said softly, placing a finger under her chin. His thumb stroked her jaw, then her cheek. "Is there anything else I can do...to prove..."

His words were cut off when her mouth covered his and the sudden weight of her body knocked him into the back of the couch. Her kiss was hungry, searching, and he was completely overwhelmed. When she finally pulled back, she gifted him with another kiss that was more gentle. Then she rose and went into the kitchen.

He sat there for many long moments, recovering, before he was finally able to get to his feet and follow her. "Barb?"

She looked up from the counter, where she was setting out potatoes to peel. Meeting his eyes, she said softly, "No, sweetheart. There's nothing more you can do. You've done enough, and I don't need any more reassurance." She smiled. "Now do me a favor: go get Brian and get yourself ready. They'll be here in about two hours."

"Are you all right?"

She turned to face him, eyes bright and clear, filled with emotion he had no trouble reading. "I'm good. Very good, in fact. Now go get ready."

When he still hesitated, she walked over to him, placed a hand on his chest and leaned up to kiss him. "Go. I feel a lot better, I promise. We're okay, Bobby. Better than okay now, all right?"

"Are you sure?"

She understood his hesitancy. "I'm positive. We can talk about it later, but right now I have a hundred things to do. So get Brian down here to help me, and after you get ready, I can use your help, too."

He nodded, still uncertain. But as he turned away she grabbed his arm and hugged him. "Thank you."

He rested his hands on her back and kissed her head. "For what?"

Her arms tightened around him. "For not leaving."

He caught his breath. "L-leaving?"

"You were going to leave, weren't you? Because you were hurting, and that's how you deal with pain. You try to run away from it."

She felt the tremor course through him, felt his lips press into her head. "We can talk about it later," he whispered. "I'm not leaving, I promise."

She nodded. "I know."

His finger caressed the underside of her chin as he tipped her face up so he could see her eyes. They were moist, but not with tears of grief or despair. Not any more. She held his gaze a moment longer before finally stepping away and giving him a playful shove. "Now get or we'll be eating raw potatoes and uncooked broccoli for dinner."

With a soft chuckle he finally turned away and headed for the stairs.

* * *

Dinner was ready and Barb had Bobby tossing the salad when she went to answer the door. Brian had gone upstairs to get his evening medicine. Voices drifted in from the other room as he finished with the salad. Setting it on the table, he continued into the living room. Harper rose from the couch with a broad smile, extending his hand. "Bobby, it's good to see you again!"

Bobby smiled and accepted the offered hand. "Hello, Dr. Harper."

Holding a hand out toward the woman on the couch, Harper said, "This is Elsie, my wife. Sweetheart, this is Bobby Goren."

Rising from her seat, Elsie took his hand. "I've heard a great deal about you, and I'm happy to finally meet you."

With a smile and a firm, but gentle handshake, he said, "I'm sure it wasn't all good."

"Maybe not, but it was always spoken with affection. Ray has always liked you. I daresay a few of those gray hairs on his head have your name on them."

Harper looked around. "Where's my grandson?"

"He'll be right down. He went up to get his medicine."

Attention drawn by the unfamiliar voices, Storm came bouncing into the room and up the back of the couch. She looked around and, with a soft mew, ran along the back of the couch and down one arm, to take a flying leap toward Bobby. Miscalculating the distance, she would have hit the floor if he hadn't seen her coming and bent toward her to catch her. Barb laughed. "It's a good thing for her that you know what she's thinking."

He shrugged as she sat in the crook of his arm, studying the visitors from her new vantage point. Elsie came over to see her. "Oh, look, Ray. Isn't she darling?"

"She wasn't so darling the other night when she ransacked the closet," Bobby said, giving the little cat an affectionate caress.

"What's her name?"

"Storm."

"May I hold her?"

With a smile he gently placed his kitten in her arms. Storm snuggled right up to an amble bosom and purred. "Oh, she's sweet."

Ray grinned at his former patient. "In case you didn't notice, Elsie adores cats."

Their attention was drawn to the stairs as Brian came down. His face broke into a wide smile. "Gran! Poppa!"

Gently placing the kitten back in Bobby's arms, Elsie hurried around the couch to embrace her only grandchild. Then Harper gathered the young man into his arms. While Brian greeted his grandparents, Barb stepped up to Bobby's side and slid an arm around him. He set the kitten on the couch and hugged her. With a soft sigh, she stepped away and announced, "Dinner's ready. Let's eat before this little gray hurricane realizes there's a roast on the stove."

* * *

Dinner passed pleasantly, with relaxed conversation and laughter as Brian described his life in the Windy City. Halfway through the meal, Elsie looked down the table toward her grandson and asked, "So what do you think about the new baby, Brian?"

Bobby's face turned white and Harper choked on a mouthful of mashed potatoes, his eyes shooting toward Barb, whose face had also paled. Brian's face creased in a confused frown. "Baby? What baby?"

Elsie looked at Barb, who was watching Brian. The young man turned his attention toward his mother. "What baby, Mom?"

She looked away, searching for the best way to answer his question. When Bobby's hand came to rest on her leg, she felt reassured, and more confident. Finally looking back at her son, she said, "I wasn't sure how to tell you, Brian, or even if I should. Bobby and Poppa both thought I should, but I hadn't decided yet. I...I'm going to have a baby."

He stared at her for a long moment before his eyes shifted to Bobby. The big cop looked almost embarrassed. Quietly, Brian said, "Please tell me that isn't why you proposed to my mother."

A fleeting wounded look briefly touched his face. Slowly, he shook his head. "No. It was before I knew."

"And you didn't change your mind?"

"Of course not."

He looked at his mother. "Why didn't you want me to know?"

"It's not that, Brian. I just...wasn't sure how you would take it. I didn't want you to think we were replacing you."

He blinked several times before a new frown creased his brow. "Replace me? Do you think I'm that insecure?"

She looked down at her plate, focusing on the gentle hand that caressed her thigh. "I didn't want to cause you any more pain or grief, Brian."

"Me..or yourself?"

"Brian..." Bobby's tone was quiet but his warning was clear.

Brian was quiet, staring at the table where his hands rested on either side of his place, fisted and trembling. Elsie had covered her mouth with a hand. She had been entirely unaware that Brian had not been told. With tear-filled eyes, she looked beside her at her husband. His eyes gave her reassurance and he held his hand to her. She clasped it and took a deep breath before addressing her son's widow, who had been a daughter to her for the past two decades. "I am so sorry, Barb. I didn't know you hadn't told Brian."

Brian looked at the older woman. "Don't apologize, Gran. I should have been told." Eyes dark with anger perused the table. "Somebody should have told me."

"Brian," Ray's voice was calm. "It was your mother's decision to tell you or not to tell you, and we respected that. You should, too. As she has since the day you were born, she was watching out for you. I have never questioned her judgment and I don't now. And it's not your place to question her about this."

Brian's eyes darted to Bobby. "It's your baby, too, isn't it?" He nodded. "And you didn't think I needed to be told?"

"That wasn't my place."

"Don't cop out on me, Bobby."

Barb raised a hand. "Don't blame him, Brian. He told me what he thought, but he respected whatever decision I made."

"I want to know what he thought, Mom." His eyes went back to Bobby. "Well?"

He hesitated, unwilling to cause any kind of new rift in the relationship with Barb he was working so hard to mend. Her hand came to rest on his and she gently squeezed. "It's okay, Bobby. You can tell him."

He met her eyes and saw that it really was all right. After lingering for a moment in the warmth of her eyes, he turned to look at Brian. "I thought you should be told but it was not my place to tell you. I don't have to agree with everything your mom decides, but I do respect her decisions and I won't go behind her back on them."

Brian studied the him, then looked at his mother and he smiled. "He always gives me the right answers, even if it's not the answer I expect. He's a real keeper."

Again she squeezed the hand she held and she smiled at him. "I know he is." She looked back at her son, pleased when Bobby interlaced his fingers with hers. She held tightly to his hand, as she would to a lifeline. "I'm sorry, Brian. I didn't want to give you anything to regret or resent. I wasn't sure how you'd take it."

"I'm happy, Mom. I really am. I mean, I know that you won't be alone because you have Bobby, but a baby...that makes me even happier for you." He smiled at his grandmother. "Thanks, Gran."

"It wasn't intentional, sweetheart."

"That's okay. I'm glad I know." He looked toward his mother. "A baby is a good thing, a happy one."

With a satisfied nod, he returned to his meal, slipping a piece of roast to the kitten who was playing with his shoelaces.

* * *

After Ray and Elsie said their good-byes, Bobby went into the dining room, chased Storm off the table, and carried the dishes to the sink. He had just started washing them when Brian came into the room. He glanced over his shoulder. "Hey."

"Need a hand?"

"No thanks. I've got it."

"You know, we do have a dishwasher."

"Yeah, I know. I just like doing it the old fashioned way sometimes."

Brian opened a drawer and pulled out a towel. "You wash; I'll dry."

Bobby smiled at him and handed him a plate. They worked in silence for a minute, then Brian spoke again. "Thanks, Bobby."

"For what?"

"For going to bat for me. You really thought I needed to know?"

"I did."

"That, uh, not-really-an-argument you and Mom had...that wasn't what it was about, was it?"

"No. That had nothing to do with you, Brian. That was something we had to work out."

"And did you?"

Bobby studied the soap suds in the sink for a moment before he answered, "Yes, we worked it out."

He heard the audible sigh of relief from the young man. "That's good. I didn't like seeing you asleep on the couch like that."

"That was my choice. She didn't chase me out of bed. I left on my own."

"Still...you don't belong on the couch."

"Don't let it worry you, Brian. It's not going to hurt me to sleep on the couch every once in a while. I'm not going any further."

"So...you still think you want to marry Mom?"

"I know I do...but not until she's ready."

"And it's got nothing to do with the baby?"

"Nothing at all. I can be a good father without being married. She just has some issues she needs to resolve, and she'll do that in her own time."

A few more moments of silence and Brian said, "You do know I probably won't live to see this baby."

Bobby knew that, but hearing Brian say it hit him like a punch in the gut and he almost dropped the wineglass he was washing. Setting it in the water, he braced his arms on the sink edge and hung his head, eyes closed, for a moment. "I know," he said finally, his voice soft as he swallowed a lump in his throat.

A gentle hand came to rest on his shoulder. "I always knew it would be hard for Mom, and for my grandparents. I...didn't really think about you. I'm sorry."

Bobby shook his head. "Don't apologize. I know your mother's going to need me. I'll...cope...in my own way."

Brian's hand tightened on his shoulder. "Don't withdraw from her. She will get as much good from comforting you as she'll get from crying in your arms. But what I really wanted to say is if you're sure you want to be tied to my mother forever, I really would like to see her settled in a happy marriage before the end comes. But...I can see she's happy. I don't think you guys need a piece of paper to make it work."

When he went to take a salad plate from Bobby's hand, his grip failed and the plate fell to the floor, shattering just as Storm crossed the threshold into the room, looking for food. She vanished. Brian caught the motion out of the corner of his eye. "Oops. I think the gray tornado just had a fright."

His theory was confirmed by a voice approaching from the other room. "What...ow...hey!"

Barb appeared in the doorway with a little gray cat stuck to the front of her shirt. Brian laughed. "Hey, Mom...you've got a furball on your shirt."

"Very funny." Her eyes darted to Bobby, who was trying hard not to laugh as he cleaned up the broken plate. "Which one of you clowns dropped the plate?"

Brian raised a hand. "That would have been me. I seem to lose my grip at the most inconvenient times."

"Is that what happened to the cereal bowl this morning?"

"Yeah...maybe you oughta just get me some toddlerware...just...no Princesses..."

With a laugh, Barb traded with him, the towel for the kitten. He kissed her cheek. "Come on, furball. Mom and Dad want to talk."

He darted away from the snapping towel with a laugh and left the room with Storm. With the remnants of the broken plate disposed of, Bobby returned to washing. In silence, Barb began to dry the dishes and put them away. He didn't say a thing as he turned toward her. She didn't object to the wet hands that drew her in to his body as his mouth angled over hers. The towel slipped to the floor as her fingers worked their way into his hair. Slowly, she backed him out of the room.

And the dish water got cold...


	45. A Change of Plan

Goren shifted in his sleep, raising a hand to his face. A sharp sting in the back of his hand roused him and he opened his eyes to find a small gray body clinging to his hand, claws dug in. When he gently drew her off his hand, she flipped and clung to the other one, chewing playfully on his finger. He looked at the time. "It's two in the morning, you little monster."

She answered with a quiet mew. Sighing softly, he got up from the bed and crossed the room to the bathroom. When he emerged a few minutes later, she was waiting for him, attacking his ankle. "Dammit, Storm..."

With what he imagined was the kitten equivalent of a snicker, she darted away. Leaving the bedroom door open in hopes she would hunt down Marcus, he headed to the kitchen for a drink. He was surprised to find the television on and Brian sitting at the dining table, nursing a bowl of oatmeal. "Brian?"

The young man turned to look at him. "Hey, Bobby." He shrugged. "I couldn't sleep. What's your excuse?"

"Guess."

"Hairball?"

He nodded and sat across from the young man. Tipping his head to the side, he caught Brian's eyes. "Is something else wrong?"

"Nah...not wrong, really. I was just thinking...about Mom."

"What about her?"

"Do you have any idea, really, what you've done for her?"

"I'm not sure I follow you."

"Where would she be if she didn't have you? You saw how she reacted when I moved to Chicago. I'm going a little further away this time, and there are no frequent flier miles for me to use."

"No matter how well prepared she thinks she's gotten, it won't be enough," he agreed, studying Brian with intense eyes. "Y-you seem to have...accepted it."

Brian nodded slowly. "Before he died, Pop taught me there are some things you can't change, so you just have to accept them. And from Dad's death I learned a hard lesson that life isn't fair. It deals you your lumps and you take 'em or they destroy you." He stirred his oatmeal to give himself a focus before looking up again. "You're having a hard time, aren't you?."

A few moments passed before he answered, "Yes."

Brian studied the big man closely. "Death's hard for you."

"Not usually. I deal with it all the time."

"That's different. You don't have a personal connection to the deaths you investigate. This time, there's no mystery to solve, no killer to prosecute. You have no focus, except my mother."

Goren studied his hands. "I...I don't know how to help her with this, Brian."

"You can't. But I want you to make me a promise, Bobby. Promise me that you'll never turn away from her, no matter how hard she pushes you. I want your word that her pain won't drive a wedge between you. I grew up without a dad, and I missed that. I saw other kids playing ball in the park Sunday afternoons, and I watched my friends running to give their dads hugs when they got home from work. I mean, I had my grandfathers, and they sure helped to fill the void, both of them. But neither of them was my dad, and I missed him, even if I don't really remember him. I don't want this little rugrat to know the same emptiness, even part-time. When he gets up in the middle of the night, he should have two bodies to snuggle down in between to chase away his nightmares."

Brian was smart and perceptive, a clear thinker, and the image those words drew in Goren's mind struck him. He understood the feelings the young man described very well, from the experiences of his own pain-filled and broken childhood. As an adult, he understood the difference a father could make in the life of a son or a daughter. He would not, ever, become the father that had been absent in his own life. "Don't worry, Brian. I'm not going anywhere. My baby is never going to ask why daddy never comes home."

Brian smiled. "If you're half the dad to your kid that you are to that cat, everything's gonna be roses."

With a quiet laugh, Goren got to his feet and went into the kitchen for the water he'd come downstairs to get, then he sat with Brian while he finished his oatmeal. He continued keeping the sick young man company in the living room. It was Brian's choice to watch a documentary about the Battle of Bull Run on the History Channel. With each day that passed, Goren found more reasons to like Brian, and he realized with a sinking feeling in his gut that losing him was going to be harder than he ever imagined it would be.

* * *

Barb rolled over to snuggle into the warm body beside her, waking up when she found that he was missing. She looked at the time. Four o'clock. She was usually attuned to his nightmares, so she didn't think that was what had woken him. 

Rising from the bed, she pulled on her robe and went downstairs. The television was the only light in the living room. Crossing to the couch, she smiled. Brian was asleep in one corner of the sofa, and Goren was sleeping in the other. Storm was curled up on his shoulder, snuggled into his neck. She lifted her little gray head and purred loudly. "Shhh," Barb whispered with a smile, stroking her gently.

She left the room and opened the hall closet, pulling out two blankets. Covering both men, she leaned down to give them each a kiss and headed back for the stairs, her hand resting on her lower abdomen, where she felt a flutter of movement, and she smiled.

* * *

Two weeks later, Brian showed up at the Major Case squad room, about a half hour before lunch. He spotted Goren and Eames at their desks and approached them. Eames spotted him first, reacting with a wide smile. "Brian, hi," she said. 

Goren spun in his chair. "Hey," he said. "What brings you up here?"

"I had a doctor's appointment, and I kinda wanted to see if you were free for lunch. I need to talk to you."

"Uh..." He shifted his attention back to the stack of paperwork situated between the two desks. With a soft sigh, he looked at his partner, an unspoken question in his eyes.

"Go," she said, feigning annoyance.

He smiled. "Thanks, Eames."

"You owe me."

"At the rate we're going, I'll still be paying you back ten years after I die."

"Don't worry, Goren. I'll think of some way to break us even before then."

With a smile of appreciation, he got to his feet and grabbed his coat as he headed toward the elevators with Brian. The young man looked concerned. "She's not really mad at you, is she?"

"No. I'll bring her back a sandwich and we'll be square...until tomorrow."

Brian laughed. "Are she and Teddy coming over for Thanksgiving?"

"No. She spends the holidays with her family. But she'll come by later that night for coffee."

"Good enough."

They continued to exchange small talk until they arrived at the small diner a few blocks away that boasted the best comfort food in the city and got little argument from the cops who frequented the place.

After placing their lunch order, the conversation between them ceased for a few moments as Brian gathered his thoughts. Finally, he looked at the man his mother loved. "I, uh, I'm going to spend Friday in the hospital, Bobby."

Goren felt his gut clench. "Did they find something else?"

"No. I'm gonna start chemo."

"Chemo? I thought you decided against it."

"I did, but I changed my mind."

"Do you mind if I ask why?"

"That's why I'm here. To tell you what I'm thinking before I tell Mom. She's been a little...emotional lately."

Goren nodded. "It's the pregnancy."

"I figured as much...and that's why I decided to subject myself to chemotherapy." He hesitated as the waitress placed a glass of iced tea in front of him and a cup of coffee in front of Goren. Once she was gone, he continued, "I have accepted my fate; you know that. I'm dying, and I've made peace with that. I saw no reason to prolong the inevitable or to spend half of the time I have left puking my guts up and losing my hair. So I'm opting for a permanent crewcut and some additional medicine to buy myself a little more time."

"And your mom's pregnancy changed your mind?"

"Yeah. I decided I didn't want to spend eternity wondering if I had a brother or a sister." He chuckled softly at Goren's baffled look. "How reassuring is it for me that I can confuse the hell out of you like that?"

"That's what Eames tells me when she does it. What are you talking about, Brian?"

Brian watched Goren's impatience grow as the waitress showed up with their lunches. When they were alone again, he explained, "Two things, Bobby. First and most important, I may not know a whole lot about pregnancy, but I do know that stress is a bad thing. And I'm guessing my death is going to stress Mom out a helluva lot. Safe bet?"

"Yes."

"Okay. That would put both her and the baby at risk, and I can't do that if there's any way I can prevent it. So I asked my doctor if chemo would buy me enough time to see this pregnancy through, and he said it would. The second thing is...well, I really want to see this kid." He paused and mixed his green beans into his mashed potatoes. "Was Mom really worried that I might think this baby was a replacement for me?"

Goren shrugged. "I don't know what she was thinking. I quit trying to figure her out when she told me she was pregnant. I...I have a hard time understanding, uh, pregnancy hormones. Your mom never used to be irrational, and I have no idea what to make of her lately. Eames said it's normal, but that doesn't help much."

"So how far along is she?"

"Seventeen weeks."

Brian nodded his head slowly. "The chemo's gonna buy me six months to a year. That's time enough."

"I...I'm sorry, Brian."

"Sorry? For what?"

"I...didn't plan this."

"Hey, this stuff happens. And I really do want to be a part of it. So...thanks."

"For what?"

"For giving me a good reason to stick around a little longer."

When his face relaxed into a grin, Goren let himself smile at the young man. Maybe it was selfish, but he liked Brian a great deal and it made him glad to hear he'd opted for chemo. It was going to make Barb happy, and he was glad, too, that Brian would live for a little longer. It was going to be very difficult for him to say good-bye, and the longer it could be postponed, the better. Brian was perceptive; he did not deal with death well when it hit him close to home...and it didn't get much closer than this.


	46. Panic

That night when Goren got home, the only ones there were Marcus and Storm. As soon as the cats identified him, Marcus turned and walked away. Storm mewed happily and charged at him. He leaned down before she could attach herself to his pants and caught her in his hand, which she was content to dig her claws into. "Ow...watch it."

She looked up into his face and mewed again.

"Yeah, okay...just watch the claws."

He set her gently in the crook of his arm, which was one of her favorite places to be, and headed up the stairs. Confirming that Barb and Brian were out, he changed and headed for the kitchen. After feeding Storm and filling Marcus' bowl, he made himself a sandwich, grabbed a beer and went into the living room. Dropping onto the couch, he flipped through the channels until he found a decent documentary on Pearl Harbor.

* * *

He heard the laughter on the porch and looked toward the door as Brian and Barb came into the house. It was nearly eleven. Brian kissed his mother and waved to Goren. "'Night, Bobby." 

"Good night, Brian."

Barb came into the living room and lowered herself onto the couch beside him, reaching over to give Storm, who was curled up in his lap watching her, a gentle pat. Her eyes shifted back to him and she studied him intently. He raised his eyebrows. "What?"

"You had lunch with Brian, and he told you about his decision."

"Yes."

"He told you first."

He looked away. "Barb...I...I am sorry...I..."

She laid a hand on his and squeezed, one of her ways of quieting him. Granted, it wasn't his favorite way, but it was one with which he was very familiar and he fell silent, shifting his eyes toward her to watch her with silent guilt. She was studying the floor, though she kept her hand around his. Finally, she looked at him, eyes bright with tears. Knowing he would misunderstand her tears, she lightly caressed his arm. "I'm _glad_ he went to you first."

"He was uncertain. He isn't sure how you'll react to things right now, and..." He hesitated before continuing. She needed to know how her son felt. "Barb, it bothers him that you...uh, that you think he could possibly see this baby as a replacement for him."

She sighed. "I should have known better. My father and I worked hard to teach him to adjust to circumstances he can't control."

"It was worth the effort. He learned well. I wish I knew how to adjust like that." He looked at the kitten in his lap, gently stroking her soft gray fur. She purred at him. "I...react with uncertainty. My...life...has been filled with uncertainty. Brian's hasn't, so he doesn't know how to respond to that."

"Have I really been that bad?"

"Not bad. Unpredictable."

"And he wanted your opinion of how I'd handle this?"

"Pretty much."

She leaned into him and nestled against him as he slid his arm around her. She could feel his body relax and he kissed her head. She gently ran her hand over the soft fabric of his shirt, letting the tender contact distract them both, before finally saying, "What do you think?"

"A-about Brian?" She nodded. "I'm glad he opted for chemo."

"Why? You understand why he refused it in the first place."

His fingers slid beneath her shirt and he caressed the gentle swelling of her belly, his mind imagining the baby that grew within her. Absently, he murmured, "I do understand, but that doesn't mean I agreed with it. I...uh, I don't want to lose him, Barb."

She sat up suddenly and turned to face him. _Shit_...he'd said the wrong thing again. She surprised him, though, by looking at him for a long moment, then reaching a hand forward to caress his cheek. "I have been so involved with my feelings I haven't given any thought to yours. That's not like me."

He shrugged. "You have a lot on your mind."

"You are on my mind, and I still didn't realize how hard this is going to be for you. You've gotten close to him."

It wasn't a question. He nodded in agreement, looking away, not sure he wanted her to know just how much he was troubled by Brian's terminal illness. But she was not going to let him get away with it this time. She touched his chin and guided his face back toward hers. He struggled to hide his upset, but he wasn't successful.

She would have been willing to bet money that she could not love him more, but every time she got to that point, he did something to prove her wrong. The fact that he had taken her son so closely into his heart touched her. She leaned closer and brushed her lips over his. Then she settled back into his arms and said, "There's something else."

She felt his body tense again as he said, "Oh? What?"

"He asked me how long I'm going to take to accept your proposal."

"You'll decide in your own time when you're ready," he answered.

"Do you understand why he's anxious about it?"

"I do. He wants you to be happy, and not alone. Seeing you settled into a happy marriage, and seeing his little brother or sister with two loving parents, will go a long way toward letting him rest..." he faltered unexpectedly. "...peacefully," he concluded with difficulty.

She nodded, slipping her hand under his shirt to caress his skin and settle him. "What do you think?"

"I think you need to be sure about it before you say yes or no."

"What about you?"

"I was sure when I proposed."

She nodded and sank back into silence. Finally, she tickled his side. "Come on. You have work tomorrow and I have a doctor's appointment."

"You do?"

"Yes. Didn't I tell you?"

"Uh, no."

She shook her head slowly. "Where is my head? I'm sorry, Bobby. It's time for an ultrasound to confirm the baby's age and size and make sure everything looks all right. I can reschedule if you can't make it..."

"What time?"

"Eleven."

"I'll be there."

"Are you sure?"

"I'm sure. I may have to bring my partner along, but I'll be there."

She smiled and got off the couch. "Alex is welcome." She tugged on his hand. "Come on, then. I'm tired."

He grinned as he followed her up the stairs. "Not for long," he promised.

With a laugh, she bounded up the last few stairs and ran down the hall. He chased after her and Storm, who was right behind him, dashed through the door just before it closed.

* * *

Goren knew that Eames wouldn't have a problem with him going to the doctor with Barb. In fact, he knew she would insist on it. And since they had a witness to track down, he insisted that she come along. She didn't argue too hard. 

As he grabbed his binder, a voice called from across the room. "Goren, line two!"

Grabbing the phone, he punched the blinking light and said, "Goren."

Eames was studying the directions he had taken down to get to the witness's home in the Bronx when she heard him exhale hard and mutter, "No...Is she...Okay, I'll be right there."

He dropped the phone into its cradle and took off for the elevators. Eames had to run to keep up with him. "Bobby! Stop!"

He turned at the doorway to the stairwell. She grabbed his arm. "I am _not _chasing you down eleven flights of stairs. What's wrong?"

His breathing was ragged. "That was Ray Harper. Barb was in an accident on her way to the doctor. He doesn't know any more."

She saw the borderline panic in his eyes and knew there was very little keeping him under control. She kept her hand on his arm and her eyes focused on his as she heard the elevator open. Silently, she steered him into the empty car. "St. Vincent's?"

He nodded, collapsing back against the wall.

"All right," she said calmly. "I'll get you there...in one piece. You need to keep it together for me, all right, partner?"

His breathing was still ragged but he nodded. "I-I'll try."

Eames tried not to get irritated with him as she drove toward St. Vincent's as fast as she could. She knew how he was when he was anxious or on edge. She knew that waiting in traffic only made him more edgy, and she fought down the urge to tell him to walk if he thought it would get him there faster.

When she pulled up to the curb outside the hospital emergency room, he was out of the car and through the doors before she came to a full stop and parked. Placing the NYPD placard on the dash, she ran into the emergency room to find him.

Fortunately, Ray Harper had already found him. He was talking softly to him when Eames joined them. Harper gave her a tight smile. "Hello, Alex. I was just telling Bobby that Barb is all right. Another driver ran a red light and broadsided her."

"The baby?" Goren asked, not any calmer.

"They're checking the baby now. Her obstetrician just got here." He pointed down the hall. "She's in room three. Go on."

Goren hurried down the hall and pushed the door open, stepping into the room. Barb looked away from the ultrasound machine beside her bed, noting the frantic look in his eyes, and she held out her arm toward him. He crossed the room and folded her into a hug as she wrapped her arm around his neck. "Are you all right?" he murmured into her ear.

"Yes," she answered.

He hesitated before straightening away from her and looking at the doctor who patiently waited on the stool beside her bed. He smiled. "Hello, Bobby."

"Hello, Dr. Caine."

"I was just telling Barb we need to take a look at the baby anyway. His heart sounds good. I just want to make certain there has been no other damage and that he's moving around with no problem." He looked at Barb. "Ready?"

She nodded and Caine motioned toward the door. "Can you get the lights, Bobby, so I can get a good look here?"

Goren crossed to the door and turned off the lights, then returned to Barb's side. As the doctor began the scan, the door opened again and Eames came into the room with Harper. They stepped up to the bed to watch the machine's display, and Eames rested a hand on her partner's arm. He was trembling, now on the downside of a serious adrenaline rush. On his other side, Barb was holding tight to his hand as they watched the baby on the ultrasound monitor. Quietly, Caine pointed out different parts of the baby as he measured and examined the little person inside Barb.

"Do you want to know the gender?" he asked.

"No," Barb answered, looking at Bobby for confirmation. "I'd like to be surprised."

"That's fine," he agreed.

'Okay, then, I won't look."

When he was done, Harper turned the lights back on and Caine said, "Everything looks good, guys. You were lucky, Barb. You could have suffered serious complications. But you dodged the bullet." He grinned. "Obviously I don't need to see you in the office now, but I want you to come in next week, just so I can check on you."

"Thank you, Steve."

He squeezed her arm and headed out of the room. Harper went with him, talking quietly. Barb looked at the two detectives standing beside her bed. "Thank you, Alex," she said as she tightened her grip on Goren's hand.

Eames smiled. "If you thought I was going top let him behind the wheel, you're out of your mind. He's bad enough when he's not in a panic." Goren frowned at her and she squeezed his arm. "I'm going to move the car. Remember, we still have a witness to track down in the Bronx."

"I'll be right there."

She left the room and he turned his attention back to Barb. She caressed his cheek. "Are you all right?"

He shook his head. "No. Not yet."

"I'm sorry. By the time I saw that he was going to run the light, it was too late to do anything. I tried to accelerate out of the way, but he caught the back end of the car. Thank goodness Brian stayed home."

"He wasn't feeling good?"

"No." She sighed. "I have to take it easy for a few days, but it's just a precaution."

"Since tomorrow is Thanksgiving, I have the next four days off anyway, unless something comes up."

She reached up and closed her hand around the lapel of his coat, pulling him down so she could kiss him. He laid his hand over the swell in her abdomen and lingered. Releasing him, she said softly, "Now go find your witness. Ray will take me home, and I'll see you tonight. Don't worry about me. I may be a little sore in the morning, but we are fine."

"You're sure?"

"Positive."

He seemed to relax. "I'll be home as soon as I can."

She nodded. "I'll be waiting."

After one more kiss, he reluctantly left the room. He found Harper and got his reassurance, along with a promise that he would have Elsie stay with Barb until he got home. Then he left the hospital in search of his partner.


	47. Much to Be Thankful For

When Goren got home from work that night, it was after nine. He'd called Barb and told her not to hold dinner; he and Eames would grab a quick bite somewhere. Elsie met him in the foyer and he apologized for being so late. She leaned up to kiss his cheek. "It's fine, dear. It won't hurt Ray to get his own dinner once or twice a year."

"How is Barb?"

"She's fine. She's been sleeping for the last hour or so."

"Thank you for staying with her."

"It was no problem." She patted his cheek affectionately. "Good night, Bobby. I'll be back in the morning to help prepare the meal. Barb shouldn't spend all day in the kitchen."

"She won't. I can cook."

With a smile, Elsie lifted her coat from the coat rack. Goren took it from her and held it while she slipped into it. "Are you sure you don't want me to take you home?"

"Don't be silly. You've had a long day and I have my car."

He walked her out and saw her safely to her car, thanking her once more for staying with Barb all afternoon. Once she was safely on her way, he returned to the house and went into the living room. He found Barb asleep on the couch with Storm curled up on the lower part of her abdomen. The kitten heard him and raised her head, purring at him. Suddenly, she stopped and looked down. The she jumped up and pounced at another place on Barb's stomach, digging in. With a start, Barb sat up as Storm pounced again. "What the..."

Goren was struggling hard not to laugh. "I think Storm and the baby found each other."

Barb's eyes widened and then she frowned at him. "Robert, get this cat off me now. I am not a pincushion. Ow!"

Leaning down he scooped the kitten off her and couldn't help smiling. "You know how much she loves to chase anything that moves under the sheets."

"Which is why I no longer move my feet until she's asleep."

"This is the same thing to her."

She studied him and shook her head. "We have a long way to go until April, my dear."

He sat beside her on the couch, depositing the little gray cat in his lap. "Hear that, trouble?"

Barb reached out and stroked the kitten's soft fur, resting her head against his shoulder. "Are you hungry?"

"No, we ate." He leaned forward and looked at her. "Are you?"

"I think I'll get a snack..."

"What do you want?"

"There's a little chicken left from last night's supper..."

"I'll get it for you."

He put Storm in her lap and headed into the kitchen. "Wasn't there a roll left, too?" she called.

"Uh...yes, there is."

Another minute passed. "Green beans?"

A pause. "With butter?"

"Yes, please."

She heard the buttons on the microwave beep. "I think there's half a tomato in there, and some lettuce...um, a bell pepper..."

He poked his head out of the doorway and looked across the dining room toward her. "Dressing?"

"Do you have what you need to make that vinaigrette I love so much?"

"Yes. Anything else?"

She smiled. "I don't think so...a glass of milk, maybe..."

"Warm?"

She smiled. "Please."

While she was waiting for her meal-sized snack, Brian came down the stairs and sat beside her. He took Storm from her lap and set her in his, wiggling his fingers above her and laughing quietly when she jumped at them. "She may be trouble, but this is a great cat."

Barb smiled. "I wasn't thinking that about ten minutes ago. Apparently, the baby moved while she was laying on me."

"Uh oh."

"Yes. That was a rude awakening."

He laughed and she lightly smacked his shoulder. "Bobby thought it was funny, too."

"He's home?"

"Yes. He's getting me a snack."

He returned the kitten to his mother's lap and went into the kitchen. Goren looked up as Brian appeared in the doorway. "Hey, Brian. How are you feeling?"

"Not so good today." He studied the plate as Goren took it out of the microwave, then looked at the half-prepared salad. "She calls this a snack? I don't eat this much in a day sometimes."

Goren shrugged. "It's different when you're pregnant."

"Eating for two, huh?"

"In a manner of speaking, yes. The baby places a lot of demand on her body."

'So, have you adjusted to the idea of a baby yet?"

"I'm working on it."

"Are you hoping for a boy or a girl?"

Goren was quiet for a long moment as he fixed the vinaigrette Barb liked so well. "It doesn't matter to me, Brian. I want the baby to be healthy and that's really all I care about."

Brian looked impressed. "Most guys want a son."

After grabbing both plates, the vinaigrette and the mug of warm milk, he looked at Brian, meeting the young man's eye. "I have you," he said softly, and he left the room.

Brian stared ofter him for a moment before he followed. He watched his mother give Goren a soft kiss and he smiled, approaching the couch and sitting beside her again. Goren loosened his tie and sat back, stretching his legs out alongside the coffee table while Barb dug into her bedtime meal. Brian picked up the remote and leaned back, too, switching on the television and slowly flipping through the channels.

While he and Goren debated over a documentary about the Roman Empire, a show about Alaskan fishermen and _Forensic Files_, Barb snatched the remote from his hand and changed the channel to AMC. _"Pillow Talk_!" she exclaimed. "I thought so!"

"Damn," Brian muttered."I didn't flip fast enough. Come on, Bobby. We can watch the Romans conquer the world up in my room."

Goren hesitated for a moment. As Barb caught a little gray paw sneaking toward her chicken for the fourth time, she said, "Go ahead. Just take this little thief along with you."

Goren kissed her as he grabbed the little cat and bounded up the stairs after Brian who had a big head start on him. Barb laughed to herself as she settled back into the cushions to enjoy Rock Hudson and Doris Day as she ate.

* * *

Barb slept late the next morning and when she woke, she was stiff and sore, but she could feel the baby moving around as she showered. She headed downstairs, coming up behind the couch where she leaned down to wrap an arm around Brian and Ray as they watched the parade. She gave them each a kiss. They turned to look at her and Ray asked, "Good morning, Barb. How do you feel?" 

"A little sore but otherwise fine."

"The baby's moving around?"

"Yes."

Brian told her, "Bobby's in the kitchen with Gran."

With a smile, she ran her hand over the soft stubble of his fresh crew cut and headed toward the kitchen. Goren's face lit up when he saw her and he stopped what he was doing to approach her and gather her into a hug. "Are you all right?" he asked after a gentle kiss.

"I'm fine. Where's the turkey?"

"In the oven. Baby, there are only five of us. Why'd you get a twenty-four pound bird?"

"Because I love turkey leftovers." She surveyed the countertops. "So what can I do?"

"Go watch the parade."

"Nonsense. I can help..."

"By staying out of the way and taking it easy, like Dr. Caine told you to."

"Honestly, I feel fine."

He met her eyes, a silent plea in his. "Please," he said softly.

She hesitated, keeping her eyes on his. He saw the surrender before she said anything, and he leaned down to kiss her. "We can handle it, " he whispered.

Reluctantly stepping from his arms, she smiled. "The parade, then?"

"The parade," he answered with a smile.

He returned to his task once she settled herself between Brian and Ray.

* * *

Once the meal was over and everything was cleaned up, Goren excused himself and left the house. Ray asked, "Is he going to see his partner?" 

Barb shook her head. "No. He has to visit a sick family member."

She wasn't certain Bobby wanted Ray to know about his mother's illness, so she left it at that. He was very reluctant to let her go along for a visit, and Alex told her he was intensely private about his mother, very protective. So she let it go.

He returned in the evening, just past six, right after Ray and Elsie had gone home. Brian had gone to his room to avoid another of his mother's classic movies, so Goren sat beside her and pulled her against him, seeking contact and comfort from her. "Difficult visit?" she asked.

She had noticed that when he had a good visit with his mother, nothing much changed, but when he didn't, he always sought reassurance from her in the form of physical contact. "Yes," he murmured into her hair. But that was as much detail as she ever got.

His arm tightened around her and he drew her against his body. As he softly kissed her neck and ran his hand over her expanding stomach where his baby lived, she could feel him relax. She wanted to discuss it with him, but knew intuitively this was not the time. She settled into his embrace and caressed his arm, returning her attention to the movie. He didn't want attention and would withdraw if she gave it. He simply wanted contact. Usually, his need escalated to desire, but tonight, she knew he wouldn't allow it. But she was content to enjoy his touch. She felt guilty for enjoying what stemmed from the emotional fallout of a bad visit with his mother, but she had always enjoyed the feel of his skin against hers, no matter how brief the contact.

She knew the pattern. He would remain close for the remainder of the night, and by morning, everything would be back to normal. She heard Brian on the stairs and then the doorbell rang. She began to move, but her son called, "I'll get it."

She settled back into his arms, and he tightened them around her. A smile touched his face when he heard his partner's voice in the foyer, followed by Teddy's deeper one and Brian's laughter. They came into the room and he started to get up. "Stay where you are," Eames insisted. "You look comfortable."

She stepped up to the back of the couch and leaned over to kiss his cheek. "Happy Thanksgiving," she said.

"Happy Thanksgiving," he answered, then he accepted Teddy's firm handshake.

They greeted Barb as they sat down and Brian eased himself beside his mother on the couch. Eames studied her partner with an eye that knew him well. "Did you have a bad visit?"

He nodded but didn't elaborate, which was no surprise to her. She was relieved to see him drawing Barb in, and it reassured her. His tendency had always been to push people away when he was hurting, but with Barb she saw an entirely different pattern emerging. Now, when he was hurting, he turned to Barb and drew her closer. Even if he never said a word, he sought her out, which was something he had never done before.

Eames shifted her attention to Barb. "How are you feeling, Barb?"

"I'm fine. Of course I can't tell him that..."

With a smile she poked his ribs and he kissed the side of her head. "The doctor said you should take it easy, so that's what you're going to do."

"Ditto," Brian agreed.

With a laugh, Eames said, "Looks like they aren't giving you any choice."

"They're not," she agreed, patting Bobby's hand where it still caressed her abdomen.

He kissed her neck. "After the scare you gave me yesterday, I'm tempted to wrap you up in bubblewrap."

With a soft sigh, Barb sat up and said, "Let me get coffee. Would either of you like some pie?"

"I would," Brian said.

Barb ran a hand affectionately over his hair. "Get up and get it," she said with a smile.

Laughing, he leaned over to kiss her cheek and he got to his feet. Looking at Eames and Teddy, he asked, "Apple, pumpkin or cherry?"

"Cherry please," Eames answered.

"Pumpkin, thanks," said Teddy.

Barb gave Goren a gentle kiss and whispered, "I'll be right back."

Eames noticed how unsettled her partner became when Barb left the room, and she set to distract him. "So how was your day, Bobby?"

"It was fine. How is Jake?"

She smiled at the mention of her nephew. "Getting big. He had two pieces of pie after dinner."

He smiled. "Kids love pie."

He glanced toward the kitchen. Teddy touched her arm and nodded at her, encouraging her to say something. "Bobby?"

He shifted his attention back to her. "Hm?"

"We set a date."

"You did? When?"

"January tenth."

"That's only seven weeks away, Eames. Can you pull a wedding together that fast?"

"A small one, yes."

"Small? Just inviting your family will fill a church."

She laughed. "It will pretty much be just my family, Teddy's and yours."

His smile faded and he studied her. "Mine?"

She looked at him with a puzzled frown. "Of course."

She knew that look. He was thinking about what she said. "Bobby, Barb and Brian are your family now."

"I-I guess I never quite thought about it that way."

"For someone who thinks as much as you do, it astounds me how often you overlook the obvious in your own life."

Barb and Brian returned from the kitchen with coffee and pie. Goren didn't hesitate to draw her back into his arms when she sat beside him, and he relaxed once again. "My family..." he murmured to himself.

Barb looked at him. "What?"

He shook his head. "Nothing. I, um, I love you, that's all."

She gave him a kiss. "I love you, too."

He watched her turn back to the conversation, which involved the upcoming wedding, and he marveled at how one person had succeeded so thoroughly in turning his life around. Where once he had merely been content, now he was happy.

Brian said good night at about ten thirty and went upstairs. Eames asked, "He starts chemo tomorrow, doesn't he?"

Barb nodded. "He has to be at the hospital at nine."

"I guess we should get going then, if you have to be up early. We're going upstate for the weekend, to visit Teddy's sister."

As they walked her and Teddy to the door, Eames noticed that her partner remained close to Barb. He was still recovering from whatever had transpired at Carmel Ridge that afternoon. His mother must have once again descended into the altered reality where her son was one of _them_. He'd told her a little about it late one night after a brutal case and one too many beers.

Teddy lifted her coat from the coat rack and helped her on with it, and she turned to Goren, gently grabbing his arm. As was her habit every Thanksgiving, she said, "Tell me one thing you have to be thankful for."

His eyes shifted toward Barb, who was talking to Teddy. With a tender smile, he whispered, "Her."

Eames smiled warmly at him. "So am I," she replied.

As she turned away, he touched her arm. "And you, Eames."

"Me?"

"Since the day you became my partner."

With another smile, she leaned up and kissed his cheek. "Call me tomorrow night. Let me know how it goes with Brian."

"I will."

After closing the door and locking up, Barb turned toward him and hugged him. "Want to help me clean up?"

"No. I want you to sit down and find another movie. I'll clean up."

"Bobby..."

"No argument. It won't take long."

He kissed her forehead and headed into the kitchen. He was still deeply unsettled from the visit to his mother. She'd suffered a particularly bad episode and he wondered how he'd explain the darkening bruise on his chest to Barb. Just as he arrived, his mother had grabbed a butter knife and attacked an orderly with it. Only his leather jacket had prevented the knife from penetrating into his chest, but it left what was turning into a nasty bruise. He'd left her restrained and sedated...again.

He made quick work of cleaning up, anxious to get back to Barb. He was restless and she was able to calm him, just by being close. When he returned to the couch, she was watching a Crosby and Hope 'Road' movie and beginning to doze off. He roused her with a soft kiss and whispered, "Come on, baby. Let's go to bed. We have an early day tomorrow."

She stretched and smiled at him. "It's been a long day."

She switched off the television, grasped his hand and led him up the stairs. He waited for her to get into the shower before he changed. Stepping into the bathroom while she showered, he stood in front of the mirror, examining the bruise on the upper left side of his chest. It was much bigger than he expected it to be. "God, Mom..." he murmured softly, touching the tender area with two fingers.

The shower curtain slid to the side as the water stopped. "Bobby, would you hand me that..." She gasped softly when she saw the large bruise on his chest. "Oh, my God...what happened to you?"

"I-it's nothing. Just a bruise."

She stepped out of the shower and walked to him, gently probing the bruise with her fingertips. He looked down at her, running a finger over wet skin. Leaning down, he kissed her softly. Reaching for the towel hanging on the rack behind her, he pulled it off and drew it around her, pulling her against him. "Bobby," she whispered. "The bruise...?"

He kissed her again and guided her through the door toward the bed. "What bruise?"

She laughed. "Bobby...you know what the doctor said..."

"I know. Trust me." He ran his hands over the growing bulge in her abdomen. "Beautiful..."

Chasing Storm from the middle of the bed, he eased her onto the pillows and crawled in beside her. Pulling the blanket up over them, he settled her into his arms. She forgot about his bruise.


	48. Ready For Trial

**A/N: I am so sorry it has been so long since I have updated this story, but I have been trying to come up with a new twist in the storyline. I don't want things to get boring and, well, I just can't let sleeping dogs lie. Naturally. So here we go...**

* * *

The city was deep in a bitter cold spell at the end of January when Eames returned from her honeymoon in the Virgin Islands. Goren was happy to have her back. He'd been bored with her gone, and he'd missed her. She was relaxed and happy, and he was glad for that. As for himself, his home life was better than he ever thought it could be. Barb's pregnancy progressed well and Brian was responding as well as could be expected to his chemotherapy. Everything settled into a comfortable routine that was very soon to be shattered.

* * *

The cold spell continued into February, and late on a Friday afternoon, after Eames had left to meet Teddy for dinner, Ron Carver showed up, approaching Goren's desk. Goren looked up when the prosecutor called his name. He looked at the time. "It's kind of late for a house call, Mr. Carver." 

"Justice has its own time table, detective. Are you busy?"

Goren shook his head. "Not at the moment. Is there a problem?"

Carver motioned to him and they went into Deakins' office. The ADA wasted no time getting to the point. "Rico Gambisi's trial is scheduled to start next week."

Deakins raised his eyebrows in mock surprise. "Has his father finally run out of postponement tactics?"

"Apparently." He looked at Goren. "You are one of my key witnesses, detective. Rico's lawyer is going to contend that you tricked him into confessing to a crime he did not commit. We need to get together on Tuesday to review the evidence in the Burquardt case and how it implicates Mr. Gambisi, but it's your undercover information that will be the key to this case. Testimony will begin Wednesday and I anticipate putting you on the stand by Friday."

"I'll be ready, Mr. Carver."

The ADA nodded, expecting no less from him. When he left the office, Carver looked at Deakins, who said, "Carlo isn't happy, is he?"

"Not at all. He was hoping he'd be able to get Rico off by now, but the evidence and the confession Goren got out of him are damning. Carlo's lawyer will try to discredit Goren, but I'm not worried about that. He's a solid witness."

Deakins nodded. "You'll get your conviction, counsellor."

Carver smiled. "I'm counting on that, captain."

* * *

Thursday afternoon was a busy one in the squad room. Goren stayed late, preparing for the testimony he was scheduled to give the next morning. There was little doubt Rico would be convicted after he testified. The young man's lawyer had gone to great lengths to try blocking Carver's plan to put Goren on the stand, but the judge had ruled in the prosecution's favor. The detective would testify. 

By the time Goren locked the Gambisi file up in the file cabinet beside his desk, it was after nine. He slipped on his coat, grabbed his binder and left the squadroom. Ethan Carruthers waved to him and called good night. With a return wave, Goren left, taking the elevator to the parking garage level. His mind left Rico Gambisi and his case behind and he focused on home. Lost in thought, he walked to his car, pulling his keys from his pocket as he approached it.

A dozen spaces from his car, a stocky man in a dark suit motioned to him. "Can you give me a hand, pal? I got a flat and I can't manage to loosen this last lugnut."

"Sure," he agreed, passing by his car to help the man.

Dropping to one knee, he picked up the lug wrench and turned toward the tire. Someone stepped up behind him but before he could turn to see who it was, a muscular arm snaked around his head and held a white cloth over his face. Recognizing the odor of chloroform, he began to struggle, but he was rapidly subdued by the chemical and everything around him slid away into blackness.

* * *

Barb was used to the late hours Goren sometimes kept. Usually he called, but she knew he was distracted by the upcoming trial, and she wasn't surprised that he forgot. So she let it slide and she went to bed to wait for him, like she usually did when he worked late. She fell asleep waiting. 

The baby's restless movements woke her, and she was disturbed to find herself still alone in the bed. She looked at the clock. 3:45. There was a chance Brian was up when he got home and he stayed up to keep him company, falling asleep on the couch. That had happened a few times. So she got up, tended to the results of the baby's game of bladder ball, and went downstairs. Brian wasn't up, and Bobby wasn't there. Returning to the second floor, she checked the study. He wasn't home. She called his cell phone, but it went directly to voicemail, so she called the squad room. _Major Case, Bridger._

"Sam, this is Barb Weaver. May I please speak to Bobby?"

_Bobby? He's not here, Barb. He left around nine._

She felt a growing dread begin to form in the center of her gut. "He's not home."

_That's strange. Let me run down to the garage and see if his car's there. Do you want me to call you back?_

"Is it okay if I hold?"

_Sure. Gimme a few minutes._

She waited. Five minutes later, Bridger returned to the phone. _His car's still in the garage, so he's gotta be here someplace. Hold on._

She held for a few more minutes. A new voice came on the line. _Barb, this is Ethan Carruthers. Sam's right. Bobby said good night and left around nine. I don't know why his car's still here. Let me see what I can find out. I'm sure there's a simple explanation. I'll call you back as soon as I know something._

"Thank you, Ethan."

_Try not to worry. I'm sure he's fine._

"I'll try."

She hung up the phone and sat by, waiting for it to ring, but worry got the better of her, and she called Eames.

* * *

He struggled to consciousness, his mind in a fog that would not clear. He was sitting in a chair, secured to it by rope around his chest and legs. His arms were tied behind him. The inside of his right arm ached and his head was spinning. He coughed and looked around the room, but he was having trouble focusing. The only thing he could tell about the room was that there wasn't any other furniture in it, and it was damp. 

He heard the sound of a door opening somewhere behind him. "Detective Goren, how nice of you to drop by for a visit."

A man entered his field of vision and he struggled to focus on him. He was of average height and build, and he wore a dark suit with light pinstripes, a black shirt and a red tie. But he could make out no other details and the man's face was a blurry shadow. "Who...who are you?" he asked, having trouble forming the words.

"I am your generous host," came the answer in a thick Brooklyn accent.

The man reached toward him, fussing with his right arm. He felt a burning sensation on the inside of his elbow, and he quickly experienced an odd fuzziness in his head, unlike the fog that muffled his thoughts. The room spun and his head followed it. He started to say something but the words tripped over his tongue, then he laughed but he wasn't sure what was funny...and the darkness returned.


	49. The Den of Carlo Gambisi

Barb sat on the couch beside Brian as Eames paced the hardwood of the living room floor, talking on the phone. "No, sir. The last time I saw him was when I left the squad room last night...Yes...The Gambisi trial. Yes, sir."

She closed the phone and sat in the easy chair near the couch. She looked at Barb and Brian, reflecting briefly on how profoundly those two people had affected her partner's life. She glanced at the prominent swell of Barb's belly, and she felt a rush of warm affection for the nurse who had so totally captured Bobby's heart. It was an elusive quarry, and she had claimed it without ever trying. Now, given Barb's pregnancy, Eames wondered how much she should tell her about what they had found out. Barb seemed to understand her hesitancy. "I want to know, Alex," she encouraged. "What happened to him?"

Eames looked at Brian, who seemed to be doing well with his chemotherapy. He put a protective, comforting arm around his mother's shoulders and nodded at Eames. She sighed. "Surveillance cameras in the parking garage show Bobby heading for his car at 9:14. A man parked a few spaces away from him seemed to be having a problem with his car and Bobby went to help him. He was jumped by three men, over powered and put into the back of a tan sedan. The man who needed help has been identified as Joseph Marzotti, one of Carlo Gambisi's muscle men."

"Then this has to do with that undercover job Bobby went on?"

Eames nodded. "That, and the testimony he was supposed to give in Rico's trial today."

"So what are they doing?"

Eames moistened dry lips. Barb could tell she was distraught, struggling to keep herself together. Brian got up and went into the kitchen, returning with a glass of water for Eames. She gave him a tight smile. "Thank you, Brian." She took a long drink, then answered Barb's question. "Captain Deakins called in the organized crime squad. He's letting them take the lead. We have to proceed carefully. Right now the ball is in Carlo's court. He thinks he has a bargaining chip." She struggled to keep her voice even. "But he doesn't."

Barb shuddered involuntarily, swallowing the lump in her throat as she struggled to keep the tears contained. She agreed with Eames' assessment of both the likelihood the department would bargain and the likelihood that Goren would allow himself to be used in that manner. "There won't be any bargaining."

"No."

She nodded slowly. "He...wouldn't want to be the pawn in a bargain with Carlo Gambisi."

"No. He wouldn't."

"But...I want him to come home."

Eames was struggling with her own powerful emotions, concern for the life of the partner she loved overshadowing any concern for justice at the moment. She moved to sit beside Barb on the couch. Unconsciously, Barb's hand rested over the swell of her baby, and the tears began to escape. Eames avoided the usual platitudes; Barb knew the way it was. She loved a cop, and there was a price to pay for that. "Barb, you need to know...the press has gotten wind of what happened. We've gone to pains to avoid disclosing any information about Bobby's personal life, but you know how the press can be. Just be prepared."

Barb nodded, staring toward the far end of the room. Quietly, she said, "He's been so distracted lately."

Eames nodded. She had seen it, too. "It's a very big case."

"Will...will Rico get off?"

"No. Cal is testifying this morning and Mr. Carver plans to put me on the stand this afternoon. Bobby was his most important witness, but not his only one. It's going to take more effort, but we can still get him."

Brian asked, "So what purpose did it serve for Carlo to grab Bobby?"

"Intimidation. That's all. And when it doesn't work, he's going to be furious."

Before he could stop himself, Brian asked, "And he's going to take it out on Bobby, isn't he?"

The two women looked at him. Barb stood and silently left the room. Brian watched her leave, his eyes worried. "Oops." He looked at Eames. "Alex, Mom already had to raise one child without a father..."

"He's my partner, Brian. I'm not giving up on him. He's the most important person in my life next to my husband. I'm going to do everything I have to do to bring him home." She looked toward the doorway Barb had gone through. "Take care of your mother, Brian. I'll call you this afternoon."

Brian laid his hand on her arm. "Alex, I need to know. What kind of chance does he have?"

Eames had the courage to meet his eyes. "I don't know. We have no idea what Carlo has in mind. It's out of my hands, for the most part, but Deakins promised to keep me in the loop. I'll let you know." She rested her hand on his arm. "Don't lose hope. Bobby is very resourceful."

"And Carlo Gambisi is ruthless. Those two don't mix well, do they?"

Eames shook her head. Brian was smart and practical, and she didn't have it in her to lie to him."I'd better get in to the squad. I'll call this afternoon."

Brian saw her eyes flick again toward the doorway Barb had gone through. "Thank you, Alex. And don't worry. I'll take care of Mom. She's a very strong woman."

She got to her feet and nodded. "I know she is. But she's pregnant."

He walked her to the door. Eames gave the young man a hug. "I'll call you."

Brian's voice was soft but laced with emotion. "My mom loves him, Alex. He's the only man she's loved since she lost my dad. But I love him, too. He's good for Mom, and he's good for me."

"You'll get no argument from me about that, but don't underestimate what you both have done for him. Hang in there."

He watched her step down off the porch and waited until she got into her car and drove off down the street. He closed the door and snapped the deadbolt into place.

* * *

Goren came around slowly. Gradually, he became aware that his surroundings had changed. He was no longer tied to a chair in a damp, empty room. He was face down on a narrow cot in a small, whitewashed room. His head was still fuzzy and when he moved, the room tilted oddly. He felt nauseous and was in no condition to figure his way out of this dilemma. He swallowed hard; his face beaded with sweat. Slowly, he pushed himself up off the bed, but his elbows buckled and he dropped back onto the thin mattress. He groaned and closed his eyes again. 

When he woke again, just as slowly returning to awareness, he was on his back on the same cot. He felt just as out of sorts, just as nauseous. He had no concept of the passage of time. He could have been there for hours or days. An image of Barb slipped out of the fog in his mind...his Barb, smiling and beautiful, very pregnant with his child. He smiled at the image. "Barb," he whispered. "Forgive me..."

He had been so distracted by a thousand thoughts that he'd dropped his guard. But who would have thought Carlo would have been so bold as to have him nabbed in the parking garage of Police Headquarters? Now, his fate was uncertain at best.

The door on the opposite side of the room opened and two men, each the size of a full-grown gorilla and just as muscled, came into the room. Unceremoniously, they hauled him to his feet, paying no attention to his state of consciousness. He was dragged into a bathroom and they waited. They allowed him to linger over the sink, running cold water over his head and face. He took a long drink of water, then regretted it when it came right back up. Still, Carlo's gorillas waited.

Finally, he stepped away from the sink, expecting to be taken back to the narrow cot in the bare room. He found himself looking forward to it. The room didn't spin nearly so fast when he was laying down. He had no idea where the room was in relation to the bathroom, but he got the feeling he wasn't going back there right away. Or was his perception of time that messed up that it just seemed longer going back than it had getting there?

He became certain he wasn't going back right away when he was half-dragged, half-carried into a posh, well-furnished office and held up in front of a huge oak desk. Behind the desk sat Carlo Gambisi. Carlo waved his hand and the gorillas released him and stepped away. His knees buckled and he dropped to the floor.

With exaggerated patience, Carlo rose from his chair and walked around the desk. Perching himself on the corner of the desk, he adjusted his tie, watching the man on the floor roll onto his back and look up at him, struggling to focus. Carlo waited before addressing him, then he said, "Do you have children, detective?"

Goren slowly shook his head, regretting the movement when his stomach lurched. His personal life and the tendencies of his heart were none of Carlo's business. "N-no."

Carlo watched him for a moment. "I see something is not agreeing with you. Something you ate, perhaps?"

Swallowing hard, he replied, "Perhaps."

"You should be careful of what you put into your body. A lot of things out there can make you sick."

"I'll...keep that...in mind."

Carlo nodded his head slowly. "I suppose a little leeway might be in order, since you can't possibly understand what it means to be a father. Are you married, then?"

"N-no."

"Really? A nice-looking boy like you remains unattached? What is the world coming to?" Carlo took the time to light a cigar. He looked at the burning end of the stoagie and continued, "I have eight children, detective. Four sons and four daughters. Rico is my youngest son, and my favorite. He's the only one who has shown an active interest in my business activities. Rico is my legacy."

Goren moistened his lips and tried to find a spot on the ceiling that wasn't moving. He spoke slowly, carefully. "You should have taught him caution, then. We have yet to be able to pin a murder on you, Carlo."

One of the gorillas came forward and delivered a solid kick to Goren's ribs. With a deep groan, he rolled onto his side. Carlo tsked at his man. "Now, now, Salvadore. Is that any way to treat our guest?"

Salvadore backed off. "Sorry, Mr. Gambisi."

But there was neither censure in Carlo's tone nor apology in Salvadore's. Carlo continued talking to Goren. "I have a grandson, detective. He's the apple of my eye. His mother didn't stay with Rico, but I take care of her as long as she takes care of my Berto. I'll have other grandchildren, maybe soon, but Berto is part of my Rico. Would you deprive my grandson of his father?"

An image flashed through Goren's head of his own child, growing up fatherless, like Brian had. Slowly, he struggled to his knees and looked at Carlo, a little more focus in his eyes. "We have no evidence you have actually done your own dirty work, Carlo. A lot of men have died, but none at your hand. Rico made the mistake of doing his own work. I...I am just doing my job. I know you respect that."

"Respect...a cop..." Carlo sighed, but he gave a slight nod. He did respect this man. "I talked to my son. You're a worthy adversary...maybe too worthy."

Goren leaned against the desk, arm bracing his ribs. "Not up for the challenge, Carlo?"

Carlo studied the cop and uttered two words that sent a bolt of icy fear into the core of Goren's being. "Barbara Weaver."

_No..._ He struggled to maintain control over his breathing, but the room started spinning again. It took a moment for him to calm himself enough to reply. "What about her?"

"I don't like being lied to, detective. You said you have no wife, no child."

"It wasn't...a lie."

"You were protecting her. I respect that. Now I seek the truth. Is the child she carries yours?"

_Oh, God..._ He dropped his chin to his chest. "Yes. I would...rather you kill me...than harm her."

"Harm her? That's not my style, and you know it. Not a hair of her beautiful head will ever be harmed at my word. She'll live to a ripe old age, to see her child grow and become a productive member of society, like his father. You have my word on that, detective. And I am a man of my word. My dilemma is what to do with you."

"Let me go home," Goren offered.

Carlo laughed. Reaching out, he patted Goren's cheek in an affectionate manner. "Listen to me. Nothing in the world is more important than family. Nothing. Remember that."

Leaning back away from the cop, he motioned to his two heavies. "Salvadore and Marco will drop you off. But first, they will make sure you aren't going to testify against my Rico."

"Do you really think I'm that important to Mr. Carver's case that he doesn't have...a Plan B?"

"We'll see what happens, detective. But you won't testify. That will satisfy me. The dead speak; you won't. Not for awhile, anyway. Cherish your lady and the child she shelters within her, Detective Goren."

Carlo waved his hand. Salvadore and Marco came forward, grabbed Goren and hauled him to his feet. Salvadore looked at his boss, who nodded. They left the room with the detective between them. Goren, for his part, was determined they were not going to take him down without a fight, even if he was not on his best game. If he had to go, he was not going to go quietly.


	50. Never Forget

Teddy stepped out of the shower and toweled off. Alex had left for the squad room an hour ago, before the sun was even a thought in the sky. She was beside herself with worry for her missing partner, and he shared her worry. He liked Bobby a lot, but more than that, he was very important to his wife. That mattered even more to Teddy, and he didn't resent the time she spent away trying to find him. He wished there was something he could do to help.

After dressing, he grabbed a bagel and a cup of coffee and headed down to his truck. He was in the middle of a big project on the west side of Manhattan near the Hudson River and he liked to get on the site early. As foreman, he saw it as his responsibility to be one of the first guys on site as well as to know what was going on with each phase of the job. Yesterday they had finished all the work on the elevator shafts and the inspectors were supposed to be there sometime that afternoon. He and the guys were going to give them a final once over to make sure they'd pass the inspection. Teddy hated avoidable delays.

The first part of Teddy's day was spent doing inventory of the tools and supplies they had to leave at the site. The tools were locked in a shed, but that didn't prevent local kids from breaking in and having nail gun fights around the site. He had yet to find a foolproof way to separate the tools from their ammunition. Paint balls...nails...yeah, he could see where the confusion came in.

He was deep in the shed when the first three guys arrived. "Hey, Ted! Ready to break a sweat today?"

"The day you break a sweat, Franco, you can talk," Teddy shot back.

All four men laughed. Teddy waved a hand toward the skeleton of the building they were erecting. "Go check those shafts, guys. The inspectors will be here after lunch. I don't want any surprises."

"What's to worry about? We done a good job."

Teddy raised an eyebrow at the short, muscular man. "Humor me, Tony. Go check the shafts. All of them."

Teddy was almost done with the tools in the shed when Tony returned, his cocky joking gone. "Ted... we got a huge problem."

"What? Did you clowns mess up the concrete work?"

"Um, no. Someone else messed it up for us."

"Oh, hell...more graffiti?"

"Not quite. You'd better come see for yourself."

Annoyed, Teddy followed Tony across the site to the only solitary shaft they put in. The rest were all banks of two to four. Franco and the third worker, Sam, stood off to the side, pacing nervously. "What the hell is wrong with you jokers?" Teddy asked as he grabbed a flashlight from Sam and stepped into the shaft.

At first, he thought it was graffiti, but he couldn't make out any specific tag. Then, a shape in the corner caught his eye and he gasped. "Oh, God..."

There was a body crumpled in the corner of the space, lost in the shadows. "Did anyone check him, to see if he's alive?"

"Are you nuts?" Tony muttered. "I ain't never touched a body and I don't intend to start."

"Stupid asses..."

Teddy grumbled to himself as he made his way over the last of the debris that had yet to be removed from the shaft. Kneeling beside the body, he shined the flashlight onto the man's face...and dropped it. Reaching through the dark, he found the man's throat and prayed with all his heart he would find a pulse. "He's not dead, you yahoos. But he will be soon if we don't get an ambulance here fast."

He heard the three men scramble and he retrieved the flashlight. He brushed dark hair back from the man's forehead and his hand came away bloody. "Oh, God...Bobby...what the hell happened to you?"

* * *

Once the ambulance was gone, Teddy sat down on a stack of lumber and took off his hard hat, running his fingers through his damp, wavy hair. Sam sat next to him. "You okay, Teddy?" 

"What? Oh, yeah... I'm okay, Sam. I'd better call the inspectors and postpone the inspection for a few days. You know...crime scene stuff...and we gotta get all that..." He couldn't bring himself to say 'blood'. That was Bobby's blood. "...uh, cleaned up.""

"Do you know that guy?"

Teddy nodded. "Yeah, I do. He's a cop. My wife's partner. He's been missing for the last week or so. I...I'd better call her."

He got up and pulled out his phone and hit her speed dial as he paced in front of the lumber, aware of Sam's eyes on him as he waited for Alex to answer. Her voice calmed him._ Hey, honey. What's up?_

He took a deep breath and tried to speak calmly. "Um, Alex...we had...an incident at the site..."

_Relax, Teddy. What happened? Do you need me to come over...?_

Great. She could hear the tension in his voice. "No. The cops are already here. We found somebody in one of the shafts we finished yesterday. You...you'd better get to St. Vincent's. That's where they're taking him."

_Me? Why? Do you think Major Case will catch it?_

"Shit, Al. Major Case is gonna grab it out of the air before it hits the ground. It was Bobby. And the way that ambulance beat out of here like it was on fire, I don't think he was doing so good." There was silence on the other end of the line. "Alex?"

It was her turn to sound stunned. _Yeah...I...I'm on my way. I'll call you later, Teddy. Thanks for calling._

The line went dead. He couldn't blame her for being caught off guard. He sent his crew home, closing the site for the next day or so, then he made a few phone calls and left to meet his wife at the hospital. He had a feeling she might need him.

* * *

_Later that day.._

Barb dozed in a sleeper chair they had moved into the ICU cubicle where Goren was taken once they had stabilized him in the emergency room. Her hand was tucked into his and she slept from sheer exhaustion. Eames and Teddy had taken Brian home, but Barb decided she needed to stay, in spite of their objections. She insisted her stress levels would be much lower if she was with him. So she stayed.

Early in the morning, Ray Harper came into the cubicle. Barb was sitting beside the bed, reading the morning paper to Goren. Harper smiled at her and leaned over to kiss her cheek. "How are you feeling this morning, Barb?"

"I feel okay. What are you doing here, Ray?"

He pulled his stethoscope from around his neck. "Rounds. You know he always falls into my care when he's here."

She smiled, relieved. "I was hoping you'd say that."

"How was his night?"

"He's stable." It was the most positive observation she had.

The doctor listened to his chest and abdomen, then he examined the IV bags, one saline, the other blood. "His morning labs look much better. I think we'll be able to discontinue the transfusion after this unit. He's recovering well. They did a number on him, but I think he's going to be all right. I think we got him just in time." He touched her chin. "Don't wear yourself out, Barb. You are eight months pregnant. It won't do Bobby any good if he wakes up and finds you stressed out or in distress."

Barb nodded. "I'm all right, Ray. Trust me."

He nodded. "Just promise me you'll take care of yourself...and my grandchild."

She couldn't keep from smiling at him. "I promise."

"Tonight, after evening rounds, I'll take you home to sleep and I'll pick you up in the morning when I'm on my way in for morning rounds. I'm leaving orders to be called if there is any change in his condition or his level of consciousness. I promise, if I get called in, I'll swing by to pick you up to come in with me. Is that fair?"

She reached out and grasped his hand, squeezing it. "That's fair. Thank you, Ray."

"I'll come by at lunch time."

She watched him leave, then went back to reading the paper.

* * *

Over the next few days, the nursing staff observed that Goren rested easily when Barb was there, but during the night, when she was gone, he became less stable. Harper ordered sedation for him at night to help him rest more easily. Harper assured Barb it was a good thing that Bobby was responding to her absence. It indicated a level of awareness that disputed the diagnosis of coma he was debating. It convinced him to give Bobby more time to recover. 

Barb walked into the ICU room on the morning of the fifth day after they'd found Goren at Teddy's construction site. She took off her coat and draped it over the chair, then leaned over to place a soft kiss on his lips, as she had every morning. She stopped in the middle of the kiss and pulled back a little. She studied his face, but it hadn't changed. Leaning closer, she brushed her lips over his again, and she became more certain that he had kissed her back. Bringing her hand up, she caressed his cheek. Slowly, he opened his eyes, and he gave her a weak smile. "Hey, baby."

She leaned back in to kiss him again. "How do you feel?" she asked, only pulling back far enough to speak.

He lifted his head the few inches it took to close the distance between them. When she finally broke the kiss, she leaned back and rested her hand on his chest, feeling the beat of his heart. His hand came to rest over hers. "I...feel...tired." He moistened his lips. "You...and the baby?"

"We're fine."

"Brian?"

"He's fine, too."

"You haven't noticed...anyone watching you?"

She looked confused. "Watching me? No. Why?"

He was starting to get agitated, and.she gently caressed his cheek. "Settle down, Bobby, or they will sedate you."

He took a few shallow breaths and forced himself to calm. "Are you sure...you're okay?"

"I'm sure."

Reassured, he studied her from under half-closed lids. "I...need to see Eames..."

"She comes by every afternoon, but I'll call her to tell her you're awake."

She reached above his head to a stethoscope that was hanging on the wall and she listened to his chest. He watched her, remembering the last time she'd stood over him with a stethoscope. She'd been his nurse. Now, she was so much more. He reached out and rested his hand over her stomach. The baby kicked at him, and he smiled. Slowly, his eyes closed. His hand slipped away, and she set it on the bed. Gently, she kissed him, pulling up the blanket to cover him, and she went out to tell someone to call Ray.

* * *

When Goren woke again, he was no longer in intensive care, and Barb was settled into a more comfortable chair beside his bed. He started to shift his position, but pain flared white-hot everywhere in his body and he groaned. 

"Bobby?"

He nodded, eyes closed, and her hand felt cool against his cheek. He leaned into her hand and she stroked his cheek with her thumb. He moved his hand slowly and brought it to rest against her stomach again. Slowly, he opened his eyes.

She was concerned, but his pain was expected. She smiled at him. "Alex will be here soon."

He nodded. "Good." He looked around the room. It was bright and spacious. "What...happened, Barb?"

"How much do you remember?"

He shook his head slowly. Aside from the familiar haze left in the wake of his pain medication, his mind was clear, but his body hurt everywhere. "I'm not sure..."

"Then maybe we should wait for Alex. I'll just tell you that they moved you up here from intensive care before lunch. They weren't sure what was going on with you, but when you woke up, your breathing improved and they decided you no longer needed to be down there. Ray thinks you'll be ready to come home in a few days."

He nodded. "I'd rather...be home."

"Yes, I remember those arguments well."

He smiled weakly at the reminder. "That hasn't changed. How is Brian?"

"He's doing better than they anticipated. The chemo has done a good job. While you were gone, the doctors told us that some of his tumors have reduced even more in size and there's no longer any sign of the cancer in his brain. They want to give him another month of treatment, and they think at that point, some of the tumors may be small enough for surgical extraction. It will buy him more time...he might see this baby's first steps."

His face was apprehensive. "Have they...changed their prognosis, then?"

"Right now, it's guarded. They won't commit to more."

The door slowly opened a little and a familiar voice came through the opening. "Knock, knock."

Barb smiled at him, then turned toward the door. "Come in, Alex."

Eames stepped into the room with a book in her hand. She smiled at her partner. "Hey, slacker. How are you feeling?"

He returned her smile. "I hurt," he answered simply.

Her eyes filled with sympathy and she handed him the book. "That was just published, so I don't think you've read it yet." She watched him study the cover and smiled at Barb, adding, "There's not enough suspense in his life, so he reads those. I prefer escapist stuff. I need light and fluffy after what I do all day."

Goren's mouth twitched. "Sorry, Eames. I don't do light and fluffy."

"You will. I have yet to read a little kids' book packed with suspense, violence and psychological depth. You won't find much trauma in _Goodnight, Moon_ or _Green Eggs and Ham_."

"I'll manage," he assured her, setting the book on the tray table. He studied her face, then noted the pad in her hand. "You need to...um, take a statement. See what I remember about what happened."

She nodded. "Yes."

"Where do you want to start?"

She pulled out a pen. "Start with the night you got nabbed."

"The surveillance cameras should have told you what happened."

She sighed with exaggerated patience, but her eyes smiled at him. "Humor me, Goren. I want to hear it from you."

He looked at his hands. "You want to know what was going on in my head...why they were able to grab me."

He knew the routine. It was a familiar song and dance, but he wasn't used to not being the one to take the lead. Eames understood that. She leaned her hip against the bed and waited. She would give him all the time he needed. He knew what she was looking for, but she had her doubts about whether or not the memories would be in his head. She still shuddered at the results of the preliminary tox screen they'd run on him. He was lucky to be alive. Part of her wondered if they'd drugged him before or after they almost beat the life out of him. Her guess would be before, so he would be manageable, although in that case it was not likely he would even have felt the beating. They would probably never know

He struggled to recall what had transpired the night he'd been taken. "After you left, I talked to Mr. Carver. Judge Hempstead denied the defense motion to exclude me from testifying. So I spent a couple of hours reviewing the case. I think it was a little after nine when I left, and all I remember is that I was looking forward to going home. Uh, there was a problem in the parking garage...a guy was having trouble getting a lug nut off a flat. So I helped him...and that's all I remember."

Eames nodded. That confirmed everything they knew about what had happened in the parking garage. "Do you remember anything from the time you were held?"

He rested his head back and closed his eyes, turning inward to see what memories were there. Eames watched him, uncertain about the reliability of any memories he might come up with. If they'd kept him drugged, then his recollections would be questionable at best. Carlo Gambisi was many things, but stupid was not one of them. Part of her knew that if Carlo thought for a moment that Bobby could come up with anything reliable, he would have had his goons kill him. Or maybe they were supposed to and Bobby was just too tough and too stubborn to die. If that were the case, the river was likely to add a couple of new bodies to its graveyard.

Finally, Goren opened his eyes and looked first at Barb and then at Eames. No one meant more to him than these two women did. Barb's hand tightened on his and he reflexively returned her squeeze. "Can I have a drink?" he asked, his dry throat making his voice hoarse.

Barb poured water into a plastic cup and handed it to him. "Slowly..." she warned.

He knew enough to listen to her. Last year, rebelling against his feelings for her by being difficult, he did the opposite of what she told him, and he remembered how much he regretted it, physically. There was no conflict now, and he slowly drank the water. Setting the cup on the tray, he coughed, and everything around him went dark for a minute. When the light returned, both women were leaning over him, one rubbing his back gently, the other smoothing a cool cloth over his sweaty face. Cautiously, he eased himself back to a sitting position. He must have doubled over from the pain; he didn't remember. He uttered a soft swear and Barb caressed his cheek. Quietly, she said, "They broke six ribs on one side and seven on the other. Your liver and spleen are bruised and your right shoulder was dislocated. Your left hip is badly bruised and they dislocated your right kneecap. You had a serious head injury and a fractured left clavicle." She ran a light finger over his badly bruised right cheek; his eye was still swollen shut. "You took over three hundred stitches and they spent most of a day pumping blood into you."

Eames added, "I don't think they meant for you to survive. They left you in a newly constructed elevator shaft near the Hudson. It was scheduled to be inspected that afternoon, and by that time, you would have been dead. Teddy and his crew found you when they went to give the shaft a last once over before the inspection. Most foremen would never have bothered to check one last time. We think that was where they...beat you. There was blood everywhere. The doctors estimate it happened just before dawn, that you were there for a couple of hours, at the most. You have no idea how lucky you were, Bobby."

His eyes shifted from one woman to the other. "Yes...yes, I do."

Eames set aside her notepad. "You don't remember anything, do you?"

"Very little. Vaguely, I remember talking to Carlo...b-but I can't tell you what he said."

She nodded slowly. "I didn't figure you'd remember."

He frowned. "Why?"

She looked at Barb, who answered his question. "They drugged you. We're assuming they kept you that way. We aren't sure, but that last concoction they gave you may have contributed to your survival. It masked your pain and rendered you so deeply unconscious you didn't move. Movement would have accelerated your blood loss."

"You lost a lot of blood," Eames said. She had seen the elevator shaft and she still felt queasy at the sight of all the blood, knowing it was his. "CSU determined that all the blood they found at the scene was yours."

Barb lightly stroked the back of his hand. "You couldn't have handled the loss of much more blood. You were deep in shock. It was touch and go for a couple of days. Once they replaced your blood volume, you stabilized. After the fourth or fifth transfusion, you started to look better. But until the drugs cleared from your system, you remained unconscious."

"It was Carlo. I...think...he didn't want me to testify..."

Eames nodded her agreement. "That's a pretty safe bet. But I testified about the murder part of the trial. Your buddy Cal and Buster Nichols testified about the drug bust. The defense has been playing its hand, but Carver doesn't seem worried. He was more concerned about the judge's reaction to your disappearance. First, he wanted to issue a warrant for failure to appear. After Carver explained the situation, he gave Rico a message for his father involving the phrase 'never see the light of day.' Two days later, Teddy found you. The guys from organized crime are certain they meant for you to die, as a thumb to the judge's threat."

Goren listened, but he was watching from under heavy lids. Barb caught Eames' eyes, and the detective nodded as she stood. "I need to get back to the squad room."

"Sorry I couldn't...help more," Goren muttered.

"You did fine, Bobby. Just heal quickly, before Deakins gets it in his head to give me another temporary partner. Remember what I told you I'd do to you if that happened again?"

He smiled sleepily. "I remember."

She watched his eyes slip closed, then she turned to Barb. "How about I bring you dinner? This hospital food has to be old by now."

Barb smiled. "I'm used to it, believe me. I don't want to put you out."

"You're not. Teddy asked if he could drop by to say hi anyway. How much longer will Bobby have to stay?"

"We just started him on clear liquids. If his stomach cooperates, he should be home within the week. His full recovery is going to take awhile, though. It'll probably be four to six weeks before he's back in the squad room. A little longer than that before he can resume full duty."

Eames snorted. "That won't drive him nuts."

Barb laughed quietly, and Goren stirred a little at the sound. She ran her hand over his hair and he settled back to sleep. "Don't worry. We'll keep him busy. There's still a lot to do before the baby arrives. Brian has been holding off assembling the crib because he wants to do it with Bobby. He said that Bobby should have an active hand in preparing for the arrival of his first child."

Eames smiled, a look of deep affection for her partner's little family in her eyes. "I'll bring dinner," she insisted. "What are you in the mood for?"

She didn't miss the fleeting look Barb cast toward Bobby before she answered, "How about sushi? Bobby never developed a big liking for it, so it won't bother him too much if we have it. Nothing raw though."

"You got it. Can I bring soup for him?"

"A chicken or beef broth would be good."

Eames stood. "Good. Teddy and I will be by for dinner, then."

"Thank you, Alex."

With a nod, Eames started for the door. At the last minute she turned and said, "Family. I was raised knowing the importance of family, but Bobby never had that. Now he does. He has you and he has us. I won't let him forget that."

Barb gave her a warm smile. "Don't worry, Alex. Neither will we."

Eames left the room and Barb sat down in her chair. She picked up her book, got comfortable and slipped her hand into his again. _Never forget..._


	51. Slow Progress

Barb fussed about the kitchen, lovingly finding a place for a small assortment of baby items she'd just gotten: a few little bowls and plates, a couple of spoons, and a handful of bottles that would give both Bobby and Brian a chance to feed the baby. In the living room, Bobby slept on the couch.

He had been home for almost a week following a week-and-a-half stay in the hospital after his transfer from intensive care. He was moving very carefully, still on powerful painkillers, which was why he was asleep. His bruises were healing and they'd removed his stitches, which had taken several hours and caused him a great deal of aggravation. He still had to keep his left arm in a sling but his clavicle was mostly healed and he was able to remove his arm from the sling at night and for a few hours over the course of the day. His bruised hip felt much better, but he still limped on his right knee. He suffered from headaches, residual from his head injury, but it was his chest that caused him the most discomfort. He was irritable and impatient with his infirmity, but he tried not to take it out on his family or his partner when she came to visit. The day before he'd left the room during her visit to keep from snapping at her, and he had not come back. He was anxious to get back to work and frustrated that he was not healing fast enough. He knew he owed her an apology, but he also knew that she understood him. Eames would never know how much he appreciated her and, as good as he was with words, they always failed him when he tried to tell her.

Barb knew just how he was when recovering from an injury, and she took care of him as much as he would let her without pushing it. He struggled for independence, as he always did, but this time, he was careful to find a balance between pushing himself and listening to Barb's advice. She kept a close eye on him, letting his body set his limits and watching to prevent him from making things worse. He kept trying to skip medication doses, but the pain always got the better of him. She estimated another two weeks before he would be able to manage on less, but she let him manage it as he wanted, with only a little prodding from her when she felt he needed it.

Barb was having trouble getting around as the baby pressed down on her hips, and she was happy for Brian's help. Between them, they made certain Bobby ate well. She knew how much Bobby hated being waited on, and when it got him down, she was able to tease him out of his funk. Brian joked about cooking and cleaning, saying that as long as he felt well enough to do it, he was going to take advantage of it and so should they. The young man took delight in the fact that at the moment, he had more stamina than Bobby did. When he teased Bobby about it, the big man smiled at him. The bond of affection between them warmed Barb's heart.

When she was done with the baby dishes, Barb looked in on Bobby, smiling at the sight of the little cat tucked into his sling with her head resting on the back of his hand. Storm would not stray far from Bobby's side. She had been lost while he was gone, spending her days harassing Brian and Barb as she hunted repeatedly for Bobby. She spent her days sitting by the front door, waiting, and after every nap, Barb would find her sitting in the hall, staring at the study door when she couldn't find him anywhere else in the house. Every time she had to let the kitten in to the study to prove to her that Bobby wasn't there. At night, she watched Barb get ready for bed, and she slept curled up on his pillow. Barb swore that she could hear the baby cat crying in her sleep, and Storm's misery mirrored her own. Together they worried and grieved over his absence, anxiously waiting for him to return. When he came home, Storm attacked him as soon as he came through the door, and now she was never far from his side.

Bobby was still on edge, disturbed by violent dreams that went back to the working over he'd had at the hands of Carlo's goons. He'd fought a good fight, given his condition, but what really disturbed him was the fact that Carlo knew about Barb. He kept a close eye on her, making her promise not to go anyplace alone. Either Brian or Eames went to the store with her, and she allowed it to prevent him from getting overly agitated, which led to increased trouble breathing and had nearly landed him back in the hospital twice.

Every evening Ray and Elsie came by so Ray could check on Bobby and see how Barb and Brian were doing. He was particularly pleased by his grandson's response to the chemotherapy. Ray was a practical man, not give to false hope, so his optimism allowed Barb a glimmer of hope that Brian had a chance. Ray cautioned her, one step at a time, but his conversations with Brian's oncologist led him to tell her that Brian's one year prognosis was excellent, his two year prognosis was very good and his five year prognosis was guarded.

For his part, Brian harbored no illusions. Late one afternoon, just over a week after Bobby's discharge, he sat down with Bobby in the living room while his mother was busy in the kitchen. He played with Storm for a few minutes before he said, "I'll see this baby come into the world, but he'll see me leave. I'm not stupid. I know I won't live to see him grow up. I'll be fortunate if I see him leave for his first day of kindergarten. But it'll be you and that baby who'll help Mom cope with her loss." He drew his eyes from the kitten to meet the dark eyes of the man who was going to be his stepfather. "When she was worried most about you, she talked about the baby. I know you didn't intend to have a baby with her so soon, but it's the best thing you could have done for her. You have a dangerous job, but this baby will give her a part of you that she'll never lose. It was hard for her to raise me without Dad, but she did it. Maybe she protected me a little too much, but I get that." He laughed quietly. "You are going to give her balance, Bobby. She was ready to take me out of Little League when I broke my arm stealing home. It was the winning run of a championship game. Poppa and Pop put a lot of effort into convincing her to let me keep playing. Don't be afraid to let this little tyke steal home."

Bobby nodded, understanding. "Don't worry, Brian. She balances me, too."

The young man smiled. "Hey, the crib is still waiting to be assembled. Feel like helping me put it together? I found the instructions, but they're in Japanese."

Bobby laughed, wincing with a groan when his ribs protested. Recovering, he said, "If you can do the lifting, I'm sure we can figure it out."

Storm followed the two men up the stairs to the guest room, which was being converted into a nursery. In the center of the room was a white box, much narrower than it was square. Brian flipped open one end and pulled out a sheet of paper. "See? Japanese on one side and French on the other."

While Bobby studied the foreign instructions, Brian pulled the crib's pieces out of the box, recovering another paper of instructions. "Aha! Spanish on this side and...pictures on the other. Doesn't anything come in English any more?" Surveying the pieces he finally said, "Hmpf! How hard can it be? It's only got four sides."

Bobby looked at him sideways with a grin, but said nothing. Brian grabbed a small toolbox from the corner and carried it to their work area. Pulling out a small bag of screws, nuts, and other parts, he tossed it to Bobby. "Let's get cracking."

An hour later, Brian was studying the instructional diagrams again. "Okay...I think this piece here goes on this end, like this."

He began screwing it on. Bobby watched him for a moment, looking from the part he was working on to the part that was going to match up to it. "Uh, Bri...I think you're putting it on upside down."

"Again? No..." He crumpled up the instructions and tossed them halfway across the room. Storm darted out of the box and pounced on the paper ball. "I give up trying to follow poorly drawn pictures. We're better off trying to duplicate the picture on the box."

The door opened and Barb stopped in the doorway with two glasses of iced tea. As she looked around at the pieces of crib spread on the floor around them, Brian gave her a mischievous grin. "Uh, small oversight on the part of the people who packed the box. They kind of neglected to put in the English instructions. So we're winging it."

Her eyebrows arched as she looked from one man to the other and then at the mess that was supposed to become a crib. "Winging it?" she asked as her hand came to rest protectively on her stomach.

Brian and Bobby looked at each other, then at her. "We know, Mom. The baby has to sleep in it. Trust us."

Bobby had leaned back against the wall and closed his eyes. Stepping carefully around the pieces and parts, she handed Brian the two tea glasses and came up beside him, running her fingers through his hair. "Are you feeling all right?"

He shook his head slowly. He wasn't feeling well at all. She reached into her pocket and pulled out the prescription bottle, holding it out to him with enough of a shake to make the pills rattle. He drew in a deep breath, groaning softly when the pain in his ribs flared. He opened his eyes and looked at her, pain and frustration in his eyes. She caressed his temple. "I know it's frustrating for you, but you need time to heal. It's hard for you to be patient, but you have to be."

He took the bottle from her without speaking and dumped two pills into his hand. Brian handed him a glass as Barb took back the bottle. "If you don't feel like going on, Bobby..." he began.

Bobby cut him off with a sharp wave of his hand. "I can do this," he insisted.

Barb twirled her finger around a curl of hair. "It's been less than a month, Bobby, and you were badly hurt. Don't overdo it."

He set his glass on the floor near him. "Don't worry."

She resisted the urge to debate with him and instead said, "It's almost six. What do you want for dinner?"

He shrugged. "Ask Brian. His appetite is more tenuous than mine. I'll eat whatever you fix."

Leaning over, she gave him a tender kiss, lingering for a moment. Then she smiled and looked at her son, who was grinning. "Chicken sounds good," he said.

"Chicken it is, then."

In the doorway, she turned and looked back at the two men who made her life complete. Bobby met her eyes and he gave her a soft, sad smile. She blew him a kiss and closed the door.

* * *

After dinner, Brian filled his mother in on the finally assembled crib and what it took to get it there as he helped her to clean up. Ray and Elsie had arrived during the meal, but they had not stayed long. Bobby also took a call from his partner. She apologized and said she wasn't going to be able to stop by that night. She claimed to be working late on a case, but he worried that she was still upset with him for walking out on her the night before, and that upset him. While Brian and Barb worked in the kitchen, Bobby went upstairs with Storm and showered. The shower failed to refresh him or relax him, adding to his frustration. Pulling on a pair of sweats, he laid on the bed and leaned over to grab the book he was reading. The pain in his chest flared and he groaned softly, dropping the book. As he swore, the door opened and Barb came into the room. Without saying anything, she crossed to his side of the bed and picked up the book, handing it to him. He grunted a thank you, and she knew he was annoyed. Still keeping her silence, she began to undress. When her top came off, he dropped his book again. She finished changing, retrieved his book a second time, and crawled into the bed beside him. Snuggling against him, she began to caress his abdomen. He trembled and she kissed his cheek. Quietly, he said, "I'm sorry, Barb."

"Sorry? For what?"

"I've been a little grumpy. And...I know you, uh, you want...I mean..." He trailed off with a sigh. "I can see it, in your eyes..."

"Late pregnancy hormones," she explained. "When you combine that with the way I feel about you...well, I can't help it. But don't apologize. It's not your fault."

He sighed, frustrated. "I planned for six weeks, after the baby," he explained. "I was ready for that. I wasn't ready for...this."

He waved his hand at his body, another gesture of irritated frustration. Barb ran her fingers lightly over his injured chest and whispered, "Neither of us planned for this to happen to you."

"I've been trying not to take it out on you," he answered.

"You haven't been, but I understand how you feel."

"Because you feel the same way, and that's not fair to you."

She was quiet for a moment as she continued to caress his chest and abdomen. Finally she drew in a deep breath and softly said, "Well...let's see what you can handle."

He frowned, confused. "What I...?"

His question was cut off by a soft gasp when her hand strayed beyond his waistband and her mouth unexpectedly covered his. Initially, he tensed, preparing to protest, but any thought of stopping her quickly fled from his mind.

When she settled onto him, he gasped again and groaned. She stopped moving. "Does that hurt?" she asked softly.

He shook his head, shifting his hips toward her. "N-no. Keep going, please."

With a smile, she obliged. He didn't last long, but neither did she, and afterwards, she snuggled against him. Where her stomach rested against his side, the baby kicked. He laughed softly, then rubbed his hand lightly over his injured ribs with a subdued groan. She lifted her head from his shoulder. "What's wrong?"

"It hurts to laugh," he answered.

"And what made you laugh?"

He drew his fingers lightly across her side. "The baby kicked me," he replied with a smile.

"He does a lot of that since you've been back."

His face clouded into a frown. "What do you mean, since I've been back?"

She snuggled closer, absently rubbing slow circles over his stomach as she thought about the best way to answer him. Storm pounced on her hand, digging in her claws and making him jump, which flared the pain in his chest. He rolled to the right, where the pain was the worst, struggling to breathe as Storm looked at him indignantly for dumping her off his stomach. Barb rubbed his back and spoke softly into his ear. Taking slow, shallow breaths, he forced himself to settle back from the pain. Storm walked toward the pillow, sitting in front of it and mewing at him. He didn't open his eyes, but he ran a reassuring hand over her head and back, and she purred. Barb placed a series of soft kisses in front of his ear, down his cheek and along his jaw. She could feel him relax and his breathing slowly settled. He pressed the palm of his hand against his forehead. Barb caressed his temple. "Headache?"

He nodded, nauseous from the pain. The pressure from her fingers increased as she massaged his left temple. Gradually, the nausea subsided, and so did his headache. She coaxed him onto his back again, reassured when he wrapped his arm around her and drew her against him. "So," he began. "Since I've been back?"

She smiled. He never let anything drop. "I think the baby missed you," she explained. "He just wasn't as active when you weren't around, but since you've been back he's been kicking up a storm. Every time he hears your voice, he tries to do backflips, only he's about out of room." She kissed the corner of his mouth. She whispered into his ear, "We all missed you."

He turned his head toward her and kissed her, but she could tell that he had little energy left. She got comfortable in his arms and drifted off to sleep shortly after he did.

* * *

Barb was jolted away by an odd sensation. The room was still dark, and Bobby was sleeping soundly beside her. His nightmares had not yet begun. She glanced at the clock. Two-forty-seven. When the sensation hit her again, she knew. It was time for the baby to make his entry into the world. "Bobby?" she whispered, giving him a gentle shake.

He grunted, but did not waken. So she gave him a more firm shake. "Bobby?"

His breathing changed and he rolled toward her. "What's wrong?" he muttered sleepily.

"I think we should go to the hospital."

"Hospital? It doesn't hurt that bad."

She smiled tenderly and kissed him. "No, sweetheart. I have to go to the hospital."

His mind still blurred by sleep and exhaustion, he wasn't making the connection. "Are you sick?"

She laughed softly. "No, silly. It's the baby."

"Baby?" His hand strayed instinctively to her stomach, and the baby kicked his hand. "The baby's all right, isn't he?"

"Yes, but I think he's ready to come out."

The meaning of her words finally penetrated the fog in his mind. "Out? Out...you mean...he's ready to be born?"

"That's exactly what I mean. Go and get Brian up so he can drive us. You're not driving anywhere. I'll call the doctor and Ray."

With a nod, he got up and carefully dressed before leaving the room to wake Brian. She dressed then dialed Steven Caine's number, and after finishing with him, she called Ray and Elsie. While she waited for Bobby and Brian, she made one more phone call. As she hung up the phone after the last call, the two men came into the room. "Are you sure you're okay, Mom?" Brain asked, eyes wide with concern.

"I'm fine. Everything should be ready when we get to the hospital. Let's get going."

When they got to the car, she climbed into the back seat, pleased when Bobby slid in beside her. She snuggled into his side and adjusted herself to get as comfortable as she could. "Take your time, Brian. There's no rush. This baby has given us lots of notice."

"If you're sure..."

"I'm positive."

As she tensed with each contraction, Bobby spoke softly to her, encouraging and comforting, but he was nervous, and he tried hard to hide that from her. She would have enough to do without worrying about him, too. Reaching over the back of the front seat, he gently tapped Brian's shoulder. The young man nodded and drove a little faster.


	52. Thief of Hearts

When they arrived at the hospital, Brian retrieved a wheelchair and returned to the car with Ray and Elsie, who had just arrived and were waiting for them. Bobby helped Barb out of the back seat and into the wheelchair. While Elsie fussed over her, Ray touched Bobby's arm. "You look a little pale, son. Are you all right?"

Bobby looked at the older man, dark eyes full of worry. "I-I'm not sure."

"Women have babies all the time and Barb has been through this before. Try not to worry."

Bobby rubbed the back of his neck. "_I've_ never done this before," he said quietly.

Ray smiled at him. "You'll survive, too."

Ray pushed the wheelchair into the hospital, stopping at the registration desk to speak with the volunteer who was manning it. He then led the way to labor and delivery.

* * *

Once Barb was settled in her room, two nurses chased everyone out into the hall so they could prepare her for delivery. Lost in his own musings, Bobby paced the hall, turned far enough inward that he did not notice his surroundings until someone stepped into the path of his pacing and he nearly ran her over. His eyebrows arched in surprised as he caught her before barreling over her. "Eames..." he murmured. "What are you doing here?"

She smiled at her partner. "Barb called me. She asked me to be here, so here I am."

He studied her face for a moment before he realized that he was glad she was there. She would give him a focus away from his own anxiety. She knew him, and she would be able to give him the grounded focus he needed to stay calm. "Does Teddy mind?"

"Of course not. He came with me." She nodded a short way down the hall. "He's talking to Brian. Barb told me to give him the option of coming along. She said she didn't mind sharing this with us, if you don't."

"Me?"

"Yes, Bobby. You. This is your baby, too, and you have every bit as much say in what happens in his life as Barb does. You have a say in who you share this moment with."

"Family," he said softly, a note of wonder in his voice.

He closed his eyes and leaned against the wall, overwhelmed by the force of everything that was happening. When she grabbed his arm, he looked at her. "Is this what family is supposed to be?"

"This is exactly what family is supposed to be."

He leaned his head back, trying to take deep, steadying breaths and focusing on the pain those breaths caused. Pain was something he was familiar with, something he could relate to. Alex gently rubbed his arm. He swallowed hard. "I...I'm about to become...a-a father. Eames...Alex...I don't think I'm ready for this."

Her smile reflected deep affection and understanding. "Ready or not, here it comes, partner."

Alex rarely sugar-coated anything, and he relied on her blunt observations of his own life to keep his focus on reality sharp. But before he could regain his bearings after that one, the door opened and one of the nurses nodded to him. "You can come back in now."

Alex gave his arm a gentle tug and he looked at her. "She's done this before," he said quietly. "She has an idea of what to do. I don't even have an example from my own parents to follow."

"But you have a good heart, and you're not alone. You and Barb will raise this baby in a home filled with love. You're going to be fine, Bobby...and so will your baby." She gave him a smile. "Your life has turned around. You have everything you ever wanted. Don't let your insecurities interfere with your happiness."

He hesitated, letting her words sink in before he squeezed her arm and gave her a smile. "Thank you, Eames," he said with affection. He could always count on her to set him straight.

She watched him cross the hall and disappear into Barb's labor room. Teddy came up beside her. "How is everything?"

She slipped her arm around him and answered, "He's feeling uncertain. He's worried about becoming a father and being responsible for a baby." She laughed quietly and looked toward the labor room, her eyes warm and soft. "He's just...being Bobby. He'll be fine. Barb will make sure he is."

He kissed her head. "And so will you," he said with certainty.

They went into the labor room to wait for the new arrival.

* * *

Sweat rolled down the sides of Barb's face as she fell back against the pillows, exhausted. Bobby sat on one side of the bed, holding her hand and looking lost, while Brian sat on the other side, looking about the same way. Ray leaned against the window sill beside the chair his wife was sitting in while Teddy and Alex sat near each other on the other side of the room, by the dark television set.

Bobby took a damp face cloth with his free hand and gently wiped the sweat from her face. He offered her a drink of water, which she took. She turned tired eyes toward him. "This baby is not making it easy," she whispered, but she smiled and he had no idea what to think.

Before she could explain, another contraction hit her and she cried out. Bobby drew in his lower lip and bit down, tightening his grip on her hand as she squeezed his as hard as she could. The door opened and Dr. Caine came into the room. "Hard contractions?"

Bobby looked up sharply, but Alex answered before he could snap at the doctor. "Yes, Dr. Caine. Every three and a half minutes."

Barb relaxed again, drawing Bobby's attention from the doctor, who stepped up to the bed and said, "Let me have a look."

Brian moved out of the way and everyone filed from the room, except Bobby. He'd not left since the first time the nurses ushered everyone from the room. Caine moved the sheet and blanket aside and made his check. "All right, Barb. It's time. We're going to set everything up and deliver this baby. Get ready to push."

Bobby paid no attention to the activity around them, just as he ignored the fatigue and pain signals from his own body. His attention was wholly focused on Barb and what she was going through. He didn't notice when the nurses allowed the others to return to the room, focusing on coaxing Barb through her next contraction.

Ray and Alex both watched Bobby with concern, Ray with a clinical eye and Alex with one that knew him well. Both hoped he would make it to his baby's birth. They could tell he was at the end of his endurance. Whether he wanted to acknowledge it or not, his body was not going to last much longer. In the end, fatigue would have its say.

The contractions were quickly getting stronger and closer together. Finally Caine told her to push and she did. Bobby didn't know what to do, and he hated that feeling. He held onto her because he couldn't think of any way to help her. Caine glanced up. "Bobby, come here for a moment."

He hesitated before reluctantly slipping his hand from Barb's and moving from her side to the end of the bed. He was immediately caught up in the wonder of watching the baby come into the world, sliding into the doctor's hands. He was unable to look away from the little person who began squalling in Caine's arms. Handing the baby to a nurse, he looked up at Bobby and then at Barb. "Congratulations. You have a beautiful daughter."

Bobby looked toward the isolette where the nurses were cleaning the still squalling baby. He backed toward the head of the bed, sliding his hand back into hers. A moment later, he was leaning over, kissing her. When he pulled back from the kiss, one of the nurses was ready to place the little girl in her mother's arms. "Look at her, Bobby," Barb whispered, eyes filled with tears of joy. "She's beautiful."

He smiled. "She looks like her mother."

She teased a single curl of dark hair that poked out from under the little pink cap on the newborn's head. From the other side of the bed, Brian leaned over. "Wow...that was amazing, Mom."

She kissed his cheek. "It was, wasn't it?" She turned toward Bobby. "Here, baby. Hold your daughter."

Bobby took the infant in his arms as Ray and Elsie approached the bed and Alex moved to his side. She smiled at her partner. "Look how tiny she is in your arms," she teased. She touched the baby's pink cheek and leaned the side of her head against his shoulder. "Oh, Bobby...she's gorgeous." She reached up and kissed his cheek. "Congratulations, partner."

He didn't say anything. Gently, he kissed the baby's head and placed her in his partner's arms. He suddenly didn't feel well. Teddy and Ray stepped up to him, grabbing his arms as his knees buckled and easing him down into the chair beside Barb's bed. Ray squeezed Barb's arm as she watched in alarm. "He's fine, honey. He's been running on pure adrenaline for the past few hours. It's just caught up with him."

Elsie stood beside Alex, cooing at the baby girl, and Brian still held his mother's hand, watching Bobby with concern. "Are you sure he's okay, Poppa?"

Ray smiled at his grandson. "Yes, Brian. I'm sure."

Barb reached out and gently stroked Bobby's cheek as everyone else fussed over the newborn baby. It wasn't long after Caine was finished with her that the nurses took the baby to the nursery and Barb slept.

* * *

A few hours later, Barb woke, looking around the dimly lit room. The baby was in the nursery and everyone had gone home. Brian slept in a chair in the corner of the room, and Bobby still slept beside the bed. She drew in a deep breath and stretched before she slid out of the bed and went into the bathroom. When she came out, she looked from one sleeping man to the other and smiled. Silently, she left the room and walked down to the nursery. After talking to the nurse on duty, she returned to her room and slid into bed, waiting for her daughter. Eighteen hours of labor and she had a baby girl. She and Bobby had a baby daughter. The door opened and a nurse pushed the isolette into the room, lifted the baby from the small bed and placed her into her mother's arms. "There you are, Barb. Do you need any help?"

Barb smiled at her. "No, thanks, Cindy. I think I remember how to breast feed."

"Just call if you change your mind."

"Thanks."

She adjusted her hospital gown, settled the baby into the crook of her arm, and watched her begin to suckle. She turned toward Bobby when she heard him moving, and she smiled at him. He blinked his eyes, trying to focus, and got up from the chair. He eased himself onto the bed beside her, placing a gentle hand on the baby's head as he watched her nurse, a look of wonder on his face. Barb leaned forward and kissed him. He smiled wearily. "I...uh, I helped...make her..."

"Yes, you did."

He lifted a tiny hand and examined it, repeating the gesture with a little foot. "She's so tiny...and perfect."

"Yes, she is. And she's ours, all six pounds, ten ounces of her."

Tenderly, he pulled the little pink hat from her head, stroking and fingering the dark hair that curled away from her head. "So...little...so...perfect..." He smiled, leaning his head closer and kissing Barb. "So much like her mother..." he whispered.

She rested her head against his chest, cuddling the baby closer. "What do you think of Emily Makayla?"

He nodded. "Perfect...just like she is."

Pulling Barb against him, he turned onto his side and held her while she nursed the baby. He watched in fascination until Barb shifted sides. The top of Emily's head rested against his shirt and he slid his arm beneath her, holding them both close. By the time she was done eating, both she and her father were asleep. Barb settled the baby against her shoulder and burped her. After two little burps, the baby sighed softly and settled in her mother's arms, leaning against her father. Barb snuggled against him and drifted off to sleep as well.

When Brian woke up in the morning, he approached his mother's bed and looked at his baby sister, sleeping comfortably nestled in the arms of both parents. He knew that feeling of security. There was no doubt in his mind that she would know love and security every day of her life, and she would get to steal home as well. She was going to steal hearts, too. She already had her father's. He had seen that in Bobby's eyes when he held her right after her birth. And she had his heart, too. He reached out and jostled his sister's tiny foot. "Little thief," he whispered. "I love you."

_fin._


End file.
